In Omnia Paratus
by Adara-chan67
Summary: SUPERNATURAL x YU YU HAKUSHO x BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER x ANGEL CROSSOVER. Sam has a vision that leads to more trouble than he could possibly have imagined. Includes both gay and hetero couples. COMPLETE
1. Prologue: The Dream That Started It All

DISCLAIMER: Okay, I'm only gonna say this once: I don't own any characters from Supernatural, Yu Yu Hakusho, Buffy the Vampire Slayer OR Angel. I also don't own any songs you might find later in this fic. Naming who they DO belong to would take an OUTRAGEOUS amount of time, though. What I DO own is the plot…and nothing else. And this is the ONLY disclaimer you will see to this story

AN: Okay, so this is going to be the first crossover I have ever written (on my own) and it's also my first Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel fanfic. So please excuse any out-of-character people and / or inaccuracies in the story—and try not to be so overly critical that you ruin the whole thing! That would make me very sad…

Oh, and also, I have no way to block flames, but I really hope that you people have enough common sense not to waste your time. I won't lie—flames DO give me a real good laugh—but I really, really appreciate CONSTRUCTIVE criticism and would like it MUCH more than flames!

Oh, and ravings about how wonderful I am wouldn't go amiss either…LOL, I promise, I'm joking about that!

Anyways, enjoy!

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(Prologue)

_It was night. A very black night, and silent. There were no stars in the cloudy sky, and a gentle, quiet rain fell. The trees didn't move, the wind didn't whistle. It was as if the night were holding its breath, almost as if it were waiting for something. And there was nothing to be done but wait with it._

_And then, after many long moments…movement! A small shape emerged from a cluster of trees, black on black. The features were nearly impossible to make out, but it looked like a very short human man. He moved carefully and silently, doing nothing to cause the slightest noise. He moved close and stopped, and stood utterly still. Then he reached up and around the back of his own head, and a moment later, something—a long white bit of cloth—floated into the harsh yellow pool of light shed by the only nearby lamp, drawing all attention temporarily to itself._

_Next there was a quiet hiss of steel, and the figure stepped slowly, deliberately, into the light._

_And it became clear that he was not human at all._

_Humans had only two eyes._

_This thing had three—the extra one was right in the middle of his forehead, glowing purple, shockingly different from the other two, which were red and in the right places on his face._

_He bared his teeth in a grin, and here was something else that made him different from humans—he had fangs._

_Vampire?_

_No. Vampires had bumpy faces to go with their fangs, and they had the same number of eyes as humans._

_This was a demon._

_And now the thing was raising a long, white, glittering sword. He had a bandage on his right arm, wrapping it from hand almost to shoulder, and yet he used the arm as if it was no problem at all, and leapt in for the kill, fangs still bared in that awful smile._

XXX

_"NO!"_

"Hey, wake up, man!"

"Don't…"

"Don't what, you idiot?" Smack. "OW! What is with you? It's me, you moron!"

At those words, the nightmare gave way to fuzzy reality, and brown eyes snapped open to stare at the concerned face of the man hovering over him.

"Good, you're awake. I think you woke the entire motel." The voice was rough and short and the concern was instantly replaced by badly-feigned annoyance. "You okay?"

"I had a dream."

"Huh. I never woulda guessed."

"It wasn't the usual one."

"…Vision?"

No answer, and that alone confirmed it.

A sigh. Then, reluctantly, "What happened? And where is it? It'd better now be Kansas again."

"Nooo…it's not Kansas…"

A pause. Then, "What's up?"

Sam Winchester looked up from the blanket he had been staring at and met his older brother's eyes. He couldn't believe he was about to say this. "Dean…we have to go to Tokyo."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, that was the shortest chapter of any story I have ever written, but hey, it's a prologue. I know it may have been a bit confusing, but all will make sense in time! Please, please review, and if you have questions ask them!

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"**All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream." –Edgar Allen Poe**

"**Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives." –William Dement**


	2. Chapter 1: The Brothers Winchester

AN: Okay, so before we begin this chapter—since it's pretty much the real start of the story—there are some things that must be known.

PAIRINGS: Hiei / Kurama (shounen-ai), Willow / Tara (shoujo-ai), Xander / Anya, Buffy / Spike (well, sort of…), Gunn / Fred

WARNINGS: This story, as you may note, DOES contain gay couples! If this squickles you, then either get over it or push the back button. And _don't_ come crying to me because you didn't bother to read this, you lazy sloth-people. Also, this story picks on Sam Winchester a lot…really don't know why, I just like it when Dean's all brotherly…I dunno why I put that in the warnings, but whatever, now you know. And I think those are the only things that need warnings, really…

SETTING: This story really isn't set at a certain time in any series, but here are some things to know: In _Angel, _Cordelia _has_ been turned into a demon, but the Master hasn't taken her over, and Fred hasn't died yet. In _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, _Anya and Xander are still engaged, and Buffy and Spike are still sleeping together but they're closer than they were in the show. Oh, and Dawn isn't here. She _exists_, but she will not be appearing in this story unless a miracle comes and I suddenly like her. In _Yu Yu Hakusho_ nothing's really changed except that Kurama has transferred to UC Sunnydale for a year. And in _Supernatural_, nothing's changed either, but the stuff in _Nightmare_ hasn't happened yet.

And I believe that's all I need to say! Enjoy!

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**Sacramento, California**

"Dude, I will _never_ forgive you for this," Dean muttered, looking back at the black Impala that was fading out of sight as the brothers left the parking lot.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We hid the weapons we couldn't take with us, and your beloved car will be fine. We'll only be gone a couple of days."

"But we've never been apart for more than a few hours!" Dean said, sounding utterly pathetic.

"Man, get _over_ it!" Sam exploded finally. "The car is an _object_! It doesn't _care_!"

Dean raised his eyebrows slightly and Sam felt himself flush. There really hadn't been any reason to _yell_ at his brother, no matter how annoying he was about his car. But he had been feeling tense and jittery all day and that combined with lack of sleep made him very short-tempered and irritable.

Not that Dean would tolerate any apology from him. Dean just didn't function that way.

So in lieu of an apology, Sam volunteered to go wait in the long line for the tickets while Dean went to get coffee to satisfy his caffeine addiction. Dean didn't even try to argue—he _hated_ lines-and Sam met up with him half an hour later with two non-stop flight tickets to Tokyo, Japan for Sam and Dean Burkle of Texas. (AN: I know, I know, all you Fred-lovers out there, but I couldn't help it!)

Dean looked at the ticket in his hand and sighed mournfully, and Sam suppressed a smile. He well remembered the _last_ time he and his brother got on a plane—it had ended with demons and cops, like everything else they did, but the memory of seeing Dean spaz was well worth it.

But Dean was one of those resilient creatures who only had to do something once to get over his fear. He would never _like_ flying, but he seemed to be keeping his cool as they headed toward the boarding gate.

Although, being Dean, he probably wouldn't present any other face anyway.

"I can't believe we're doing this."

Sam sighed. "I can't, either."

"Then…why are we?"

"Because there's trouble there."

"There's always trouble, Sam, but we've never left the country before. What if Dad finds us another job or something?"

Sam felt his temper begin to mount again at the mention of their father and forced it down. "He'll have to either wait a couple days or deal with it himself. This is more important." He didn't even realize that he'd raised his voice again until he stopped speaking, but in fact he had been almost shouting—again.

Dean reached out and caught his arm, pulling him around mid-step. "Sam, what's going on with you? I've never seen you this freaked."

_Am I freaked?_ Sam wondered in mild surprise. _Is _that_ what this is?_

Yes.

He _was_ freaked…he just didn't know why.

Sam sighed. "I don't know, Dean. I just…I haven't been able to calm down since I had that dream. Every second I feel like something's going to happen, and I don't know if it's going to be good or bad. And then nothing happens and the feeling gets stronger. And I just _know_ that it has something to do with the demon I saw in my dream. I'm not sure how or why, but I know it.

"That's another thing. How do you know the thing was a demon? It could've been a spirit or something. I mean, you said it had a sword. Demons don't need swords to kill. You know that."

Sam ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "_It wasn't a spirit._ I told you that last night when you asked me the same thing. It looked _human_ before it took off that headband. And it had _power_…more power than anything I've ever seen or heard of. Whoever it was going for in the dream, it could easily have taken them out. _We have to find it_."

Dean started walking again, almost as if he didn't realize he was doing it. "But what do we do when we find it? I mean, how do we kill it?"

"…We don't."

Dean stopped walking and nearly dropped his bag, which would have been rather disastrous considering the number of weapons he and Sam planned on sneaking through security. He stared at Sam in complete and total shock, which normally would have made Sam laugh—but not today. No, today he just looked back at Dean, his face mirroring his brother's shock because he himself was completely clueless as to why he'd _said_ such a thing. Since when did Sam Winchester say no to killing _demons_?

Dean seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Are you sure that demon didn't scramble your brains?" he asked, looking honestly worried about Sam's sanity.

"I'm not crazy." And as he said it, Sam knew it was true. "We can't kill it unless we have to. It's…important to us."

"What're you talking about?"

"_I don't know._" Sam was getting truly frustrated now, but not at Dean. "It's just another feeling. When you asked how we kill it, I just…felt like if we did, it could be…bad. I can't explain any better than that. But I think…he may have answers for us."

"Answers to _what_? Sam, this is nuts."

"Don't you think I know that? I feel nuts for saying it. I don't understand it, but Dean, please, just…trust me on this, okay? When we find this thing—and we _will_ find it—don't kill it."

Dean didn't answer for a long time, and Sam could sense his turmoil. And who could blame him, really? He had spent twenty years fighting evil and now his own brother was telling him to hold off. But he finally looked at Sam, and when he saw how earnestly he was looking at him, he sighed and said, "Fine. We'll do it your way. You can…talk to the thing. I don't know what good it would do—I mean, do demons even _talk_ without possessing people?—but you can try. But Sammy, if it hurts you—if it even _tries—_or if it attacks me—I'll kill it."

Sam hesitated, then nodded. It was better than nothing.

"Okay. Now let's go get on that devil's flying thing."

"Oh, and in case I forgot to say it before—it's _Sam_."

"Shut up, geek."

XXX

**Tokyo, Japan**

"God, that was the _longest_ flight I've ever been on."

Sam shook his head at Dean's continual complaints. The fact was, the only flight Dean had ever been on had ended forty minutes in because a demon tried to crash the plane, so there really wasn't any standard of comparison. But saying as much to Dean was pointless, because when Dean had something to complain about, he wasn't going to let it go in a hurry. But Sam did wish he would shut up.

"Okay, psychic wonder, where do your spidey-senses say to go now?"

"Motel," Sam replied as he started to walk toward the exit of the airport without looking back at Dean.

"What, is this demon gonna meet us for lunch?" Dean asked irritably as he jogged to catch up, tossing glares at all the Japanese signs and symbols. It couldn't have been more obvious that he was uncomfortable being so far away from home and their father—even though technically they didn't _have_ a home and their dad was nowhere to be found.

Sam bit back another sharp retort, trying to have patience with his brother. But that was getting harder and harder—now that they were actually _in_ Japan, his "spidey-senses" were sounding the alarm more loudly than ever, and the feeling of tense expectation was worsening until he wanted to scream.

But there was no way to communicate this with Dean that he hadn't already tried, and so he was silently distracted as they walked toward the front of the airport. At one point, Dean left him to go rent a car, and Sam barely registered his vague promise to meet him at the front. The result was that he wandered out to the middle of the parking lot without realizing it, and was only brought back to himself by Dean's calling him. He ran back to the airport and found Dean by the doors. Before Sam could identify the look on his brother's face, it changed into the familiar annoyance. Sam scarcely noticed his scolding and only muttered a single "sorry" when Dean fell silent.

He was oblivious to the glance Dean tossed him as he led him toward the rental car, but if he had been paying attention, he could have been surprised by the amount of concern in his big brother's eyes.

XXX

Dean Winchester was _not_ happy.

First, his brother had scared the crap out of him the night before by having _another_ nightmare.

Then Sam had insisted that they had to go across the world to hunt a demon.

_Then_ Sam had told him he couldn't kill the demon they were hunting, which _certainly_ didn't make any sense.

And _now_ Sam was acting decidedly _weird_. He was distracted and even quieter than usual, and when he thought Dean wasn't looking at him he would get this look of extreme concentration, like he was trying to grasp a concept that was eluding him.

Then, as Dean drove toward the nearest motel—he had gotten directions while flirting with the girl at the car rental desk—it seemed to get worse. Sam kept reaching up to rub his forehead as if he had a headache, seemingly unaware of his actions.

Dean felt his jaw clench, but he didn't say anything.

He never said anything.

He didn't know how.

XXX

The motel they found was pretty much like all the others they'd been to: small and cramped and dingy, but cheap—and Japanese.

"So what do we do?" Dean asked, tossing his bag on one of the beds.

Sam put his stuff down on the other bed and opened the duffel. "We have to wait until tonight."

"Why?" Dean asked patiently.

"It was night in my dream."

"Oh…and how do you know it was tonight?"

"I know. We'll go to the park tonight. He'll be there."

"And I assume you just _know_ what park it is?"

"Yes. We passed it on the way here and I felt it. I know where to go, and when. But I don't know _why_." Sam sighed and reached up to rub his head again.

Dean glanced at him, then unzipped a pocket in his duffel, took something out, and walked over to hand it to Sam. "Here."

Sam blinked in confusion at the pill bottle in his hand.

"It'll help with your headache."

Sam looked surprised at the idea that he even _had_ a headache, but as he opened his mouth to protest, Dean gave him a stern look and said, "Take one." And Sam, seeming to be simply too tired to argue, swallowed a couple of them dry and turned back to unpacking.

"We aren't going anywhere today, then, right?" Dean asked casually.

"We don't have to, no," Sam replied, yawning.

"Then take a nap."

"What? Dean, it's like one in the afternoon."

"Well, we've got a busy night, and you look like crap."

"I'm fine, Dean."

Dean glared. "Stop being an idiot. You haven't slept in almost two days and we have to be on the watch tonight."

"I have to unpack," Sam said, looking determined to win this disagreement.

Dean swiftly deprived him of _that_ excuse. "I'll do it. I know where all your stuff goes."

Sam's mouth dropped open. _Dean was volunteering to do extra work._ He _must_ have been worried. _Which means I must _really _look terrible…_

"Fine," Sam grumbled, shoving his bag on the floor and sitting down to pull off his shoes. "But I can't promise to sleep. I'm way too wired."

Dean didn't answer. He just continued to silently unpack his clothes, and he smirked when less than five minutes later, Sam's breathing evened out and he slept.

XXX

Sam didn't wake up until nearly sunset, but his dreams were strange and sometimes mixed with nightmares of things he couldn't identify, so he was still tired when he rolled out of bed. But he didn't feel quite so tense now, and his headache was gone.

Dean was sitting on his bed, Sam's laptop open in front of him, staring at it with a look of intense concentration. "What're you doing?" Sam asked with a yawn.

"Eye candy," Dean replied without looking up.

"Man, you are _not_ looking up chicks on _my_ computer…" Sam groaned, standing up and going to peer over Dean's shoulder. Then his eyebrows went up and he choked on a laugh. "Dean, those are _cars._"

"Yeah, and?" He looked up to find Sam staring at him like he had way too many heads. "What? I miss my baby, okay? Jeez…"

"…Never mind. Turn it off."

"What? Why?"

"It's sunset. We're going to the park."

XXX

"We're here." Sam looked around him, and all the little details from his dream leapt out at him—the darkness, the silence, the stillness. He knew the gently rain was coming before it began and he knew exactly where the demon would emerge into the open.

But he didn't see any other humans, which confused him. The demon had definitely been attacking—or about to—in the dream…

"So we just wait?" Dean asked, nervously fingering the gun strapped to his waist.

"Yeah. It…it shouldn't take long," Sam replied, hardly knowing what he was saying. The feeling of expectation was back, and it had intensified until he found it difficult to breathe past it. He was almost surprised that Dean didn't feel it at least a little—it was almost tangible, in his opinion.

"And…what if it doesn't turn up?"

"It will."

"But—"

"Shut up," Sam snapped suddenly, waving a hand to silence his brother, his eyes fixed firmly on the cluster of trees where he knew the demon would be. His chest felt like it was about to burst with anticipation and he _knew_, instinctively, that the moment he had felt coming was upon them at last.

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, the shadows seemed to darken and a moment later a figure solidified against the blackness. It stood there for a moment, then began to move forward. Sam watched it, and he was aware of Dean shifting next to him. But there was still no sign of another living creature.

And then the thing began to move with a purpose, and Sam realized it.

Oh, crap… 

"Dean."

"What?"

"We're in trouble."

XXX

**Los Angeles, California**

_Confusion._

_Light. Color. Noise. And fire._

_Lots and lots of fire._

_But no solid shapes. No faces, no location to be seen._

_Just a feeling of overwhelming fear and horror. _

_And the knowledge that _something_ was coming…_

XXX

"Cordy? Hey, Cordy, you with us? _Cordelia_!"

"…Angel?"

"Yeah. You okay?"

"I had a vision."

"Yeah. We sorta got that when you zoned out…"

"Gunn."

"Sorry. So what was it? Where do we go?"

"Nowhere."

"…Come again?"

"You heard me, Wes. We stay here. That vision was…it didn't _show_ me anything. I just…felt afraid. That was it—just a feeling. And…and _something's_ coming. But we can't know what and we can't do anything about it. So we don't go anywhere. We don't do anything but wait."

XXX

**Tokyo, Japan**

Sam had known beforehand what he was going to see when the demon stepped into the light. If he hadn't, he never would have managed to keep his cool.

But he hadn't expected the outright contempt and malice he felt emanating from the third eye in waves—not from the demon, it seemed, but from _the eye itself_. It was as if the thing had a mind, a will, of its own, and was only trapped in this body against its will.

And it wanted to kill them.

But this feeling, this hatred, was not something Sam knew through his extra "senses"—it was something that could be known by _anyone_.

Dean felt it, too. Sam could tell by the sudden rigidity of his muscles, the sudden spasm of the hand wrapped around the gun, and felt the first trace of fear. Dean _never_ lost control of his movement like that.

And then the sword was bared. The thing was looking at Sam and showing those awful teeth in that awful grin, and Sam expected to feel revulsion.

He felt nothing.

Because this thing wasn't after them personally. It didn't _want_ to kill them.

Sam knew that as certainly and as deeply as he knew his own name, and _that_ knowledge _did_ come from his "spidey-senses." _They_ allowed him to separate the personality of the eye and the personality of the demon into two things, and allowed Sam to see what he saw.

But Sam also knew that it would not hesitate to do what it didn't want to do. It would not hesitate and it would not regret, because it thought that Sam and Dean were threats—not to the demon itself, but rather to something far more important, something precious, though the identity of this thing was a mystery.

_It felt love_.

And suddenly, to Sam, the "it" was a "he."

XXX

Dean was freaked.

_Really_ freaked.

He hadn't expected any of this.

Oh, Sam had tried to explain things to him, of course. He had explained what was going to happen, what the demon would look like, what it was going to do. And he had expected something bad, because wasn't everything they ran across bad?

But what Dean had expected and what he actually felt the moment he laid eyes on the demon were two entirely different things.

This thing _hated_ them.

But not _just_ them.

It hated _everyone_. It wanted to kill him and Sam and _everyone_.

But if that was true, then…

_Why_ was Sam looking at it like that?

It was almost as if he…_pitied_ it.

Dean recalled later that he seemed to have unlimited time to make all these observations—only a few moments passed between the time the demon appeared and the time it attacked, but it may as well have been an eternity, time moved so slowly.

But finally, the demon shifted. Its muscles flexed slightly and it moved almost imperceptibly into a fighting stance. It raised the sword…

And then it disappeared.

XXX

To be entirely honest, Sam would have expected the demon to go for _him_. He hadn't really thought about it, but if he had, he would have remembered that spirits and demons were attracted to him because of his visions. As it was, he was already subconsciously prepared to dodge the first attack when it came.

What he was _not_ prepared for was for the demon to go for Dean.

He also hadn't expected Dean to just stand there and wait for the crippling blow to come. But that was exactly what he saw when he looked at his brother. Dean was staring at the spot where the demon had been standing, his mouth slack with surprise.

It was if time had stopped.

No. Not time.

Sam, the demon…everything else was moving at normal speed.

It was _Dean_ who seemed to have stopped.

"_DEAN_!" 

XXX

"Where'd it go?"

Dean wasn't sure whether he spoke it aloud or only thought it, but either way, Sam didn't answer. In fact, there hadn't been a single sound or movement from his brother since the demon appeared. Dean was just about to look over and make sure Sam hadn't gone and dropped dead on him when suddenly, less than a heartbeat after the demon disappeared, he heard a scream.

"_DEAN_!" 

Dean started to turn in the direction of Sam's call.

The next thing he knew he was lying flat on his back, his brother lying prone on top of him, with no idea of how it happened.

He lay there for a moment, stunned, and then his mind caught up to the events of the last few seconds, and he realized with horror that Sam wasn't moving.

In a panic, he sat straight up, his arms wrapped around Sam to keep him from hitting the ground, and looked down into his brother's face.

To his intense relief, Sam's eyes were open. So he wasn't dead. But he looked_ terrible_, his face bruised and his eye black and swollen, and there was a long, deep cut in his arm. But…_how_? There was no way he could have sustained such injuries in less than three seconds.

"Dean…" Sam gasped, then coughed. "Don't worry…I'm…fine…"

"I know that, Sammy. Takes more than a tiny little demon to do you in."

"It's…Sam…you useless lump…and I _won't_…tell you again."

Before Dean could reply to that, a shadow fell over them both, and he looked up to see the demon standing over them.

It didn't look as bad as Sam did, but it was sporting a cut lip and a couple of bruises, and Dean felt a surge of pride. It still had its sword out, and Dean tensed before he realized that the thing was making no attempt to raise it. It was just watching them, its expression absolutely unreadable. But the sword was bloody, and that was all it took for Dean's anger to make him see red. He growled and would have lunged for the demon if Sam hadn't still been in his lap.

"Dean…don't hurt him…" Sam said, his voice fading as he began to lose consciousness. "_Don't hurt him_. I know you…want to…but he thought…we were dangerous…it isn't…his fault. Let him…be." Then his eyes slid closed, and he gave up trying to stay awake.

Dean felt another blinding moment of panic, but Sam's pulse proved to be steady, though rather weak, and he was breathing regularly, so Dean turned his attention to the demon, which was still watching impassively. It was only then that he registered Sam's use of the word _him_ when describing the demon, which seemed just weird—demons weren't _people_.

But he had more important things to think about.

"Well, you heard him. I won't kill you. But if you don't beat it in about three seconds I might change my mind."

"You couldn't do a think to me, human," the demon said, and there wasn't a trace of amusement in its—_his_—voice—it seemed to just be a fact to him.

"Oh, yeah? Well my baby brother sure popped ya one."

"Yes." That was all for a moment. Then, "Bring him and come with me."

Silence.

"What…the hell?"

"I said, bring him and come with me."

"Should I even _begin_ listing the reasons that's not gonna happen?"

No answer.

"Fine. First of all, _you're a demon_, and I make it a habit to _kill_ demons, not go on field trips with them. Secondly, my brother has a hole in his arm and his face is turning purple, and it's your fault, so I _really_ don't think I'm gonna trust you enough to follow you anywhere. Third, I get the feeling that following you would cause chaos to ensue and while I'm a _big_ fan of chaos, I don't want to prolong our stay in this God-forsaken country any longer than it's gonna take for Sam to wake up. So unless you tell me that these injuries are going to kill him and only you can save him, and you prove that beyond any shadow of a doubt, I'll be leaving now."

Another moment of silence before the demon spoke again. "The injuries aren't life-threatening. He'll be sore for a while and he'll have trouble using the arm for a day or two, but assuming no complications arise, he'll be fine. But you need to come with me."

Dean spoke with extremely exaggerated patience. "We already covered this. Now, I still have no idea what the hell happened but I really don't care. I'm going to take my brother back to our motel and I'm going to take care of what _you_ caused. And I don't ever want to see you again, because I honestly can't believe I'm not killing you right now."

And with that, Dean stood, lifting his brother and trying not to stagger under the weight, and turned his back on the demon and walked back toward the spot where he'd left the rental car.

The demon made no attempt to follow him.

XXX

Two hours later, the brothers were back at the hotel. Sam was lying on his bed, still out cold, his arm bandaged and an ice pack on his eye. Dean was pacing the room, still full of pent-up energy, waiting for his brother to stir, as he had been doing for the hour and a half since he finished with Sam's injuries.

At around nine o'clock, he threw himself down on his own bed and picked up the remote out of boredom.

He never even knew there were people in the room until someone came up to the side of the bed, throwing a shadow over him. He looked up, and he just had time to register black hair, large brown eyes, and a rather unhappy expression before the stranger—who, oddly enough, seemed totally and completely _human_—murmured, "We're really, really sorry about this…"

"Speak for yourself, Detective."

The guy sighed, and Dean suddenly wondered why he was just _sitting _here when there were at least two people in his room—one of them the demon that had hurt Sam, judging by the voice—and one of them was apologizing, which could only mean trouble.

Then the human said, "Fine, _I'm_ really sorry about this…"

"What the h—"

There was a flash of movement and then agony laced through Dean's skull. The world grayed out and he slid sideways, and he would have hit the ground if a pair of arms hadn't caught him. Painfully, he turned his head—and saw the short figure bending over his brother.

"_Don't hurt him_!" Dean shouted, and the pain grew until he could hardly bear it.

The last thing he was aware of was the human's voice. "We won't. Like I said, I'm so sorry we had to do it this way…"

And then all the lights went out.

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Tee hee hee…Dean has to deal with Hiei _without _killing him…this is gonna be fun…anyways, please drop a review! I wuffles all those who do!

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"**Cruel he looks, but calm and strong,**

**Like one who does, not suffers wrong."**

—**Percy Bysshe Shelley, _Prometheus Unbound_**

"**Even the wisest man grows tense**

**With some sort of violence**

**Before he can accomplish fate,**

**Know his work or choose his mate."**

**--W.B. Yeats, _Under Ben Bulben_**


	3. Chapter 2: Sunnydale, California

AN: Okay, so I meant to update this early yesterday, but there was a problem with the site, I guess, and so I couldn't upload the chapter. But it's better now, so without further ado, enjoy chapter two!

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Anonymous Reviewer(s)

**xhu**: Thanks for your review! I updated as fast as I could, but—well, I'm a slow reviewer. Sorry. And I'm glad you understand at least MOST of this—except Dean and Sam, probably, since they aren't characters of Yu Yu OR Buffy OR Angel…if there's anything you need explained about them, though, drop me an e-mail at and I'll tell you anything you want!

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**University of California: Sunnydale**

The students of U.C. Sunnydale were all thoroughly excited.

Well, being American college students, they were _always_ thoroughly excited, but this was the time of year in which they were wildest. Summer was approaching, midterms were nearly over, and they were almost free of this stifling place for three full months.

So it was really no wonder that the entire student body was acting like a pack of baboons.

Or…most of them, anyway.

XXX

Why _did I do this again?_ Suuichi "Kurama" Minamono asked himself irritably as he was nearly knocked flat by a very large group of very happy frat brothers who took absolutely no notice of him as they swarmed—there was really no other word for it—across the campus. He tried very hard to remember his reasons for being here as he dodged yet another person. There _had_ been reasons, of that he was reasonably sure…

**Flashback—a month ago—the Spirit World**

"**I need to see Koenma," Kurama repeated, his voice heavily layered with annoyance as he spoke the words into the intercom for the second time.**

"**Please state your business."**

"**I _told_ you! I don't _know_ my business!" Kurama said, his voice swelling. "Good God, you _know_ who Kurama is! _Koenma_ made _me_ come here, and it's taking a _huge_ chunk out of my day, so open up and let me in!" Kurama was getting very impatient, which was unusual—the fox-demon-turned-human very rarely gave himself over to any emotion—but the Reikai prince had pulled him away from the utter relaxation that came with the weekend, which was an incredibly rare thing now that he was in college. **

**There was a moment of silence from whoever was speaking into the intercom, and then a new voice sounded over it. "Kurama-san?"**

**Kurama gave a smile of triumph. "Yes, George, it's me. New guy?"**

**A heavy sigh came from the intercom, and the speaker said in a long-suffering voice, "Yes, and I have to show him the ropes. I'm sorry we kept you waiting."**

**The tension in Kurama's shoulders fell easily away—he wasn't dealing with idiots anymore, so he could afford to speak as a friend to a friend. "Don't worry about it—_you_ didn't pull me away from my Saturday. Just let me in so I can freeze Koenma out."**

"**Of course, Kurama.**

**XXX**

**The palace of the Reikai—the Spirit World—is, of course, an extremely busy place at the best of times. It is the job of workers here to collect the souls of all who have passed on, and to move them to whatever plane of existence they are meant to go to next. It is a job that requires hard work and dedication—and a lot of running around and shouting.**

**But Kurama was used to the chaos—he easily sidestepped every worker that nearly ran him over as he made for the double doors that were his destination, and a couple of minutes later they closed behind him with a decided _thud_, shutting out sound completely. Kurama stood for a moment and allowed the silence to envelop him. **

**This office hadn't changed since the last time Kurama was here. The tiled floor and white walls were spotless from the door to about halfway in, but the large brown wooden desk and the floor around it were covered in stacks of paperwork, some stamped in the sign of the Reikai, some unmarked. **

"**Good afternoon, Koenma." Kurama made his voice stiff and formal, though he had known the person he spoke to for many years now, because that always made the other uncomfortable and right now he very much wanted Koenma to feel uncomfortable.**

**And then the person in the chair spoke, and drew attention to himself. It needed to be drawn, too—the speaker was a small child, looking no older than a toddler. He had even worn a pacifier once, hard worn it for centuries, but it was gone now, lost a few years before in battle with Makai—the Demon World. Even his voice was child-like in that it was high and very young, but it as also clear and serious in a way that no child's could ever be. If you listened at all, it was obvious that this was the voice of a man. **

**No, Koenma was no child. He had not been a child for centuries, maybe millennia.**

**Koenma was the Prince of the Reikai, son of Yama, King of the Reikai, and one day long from now he would take control. And he was also Kurama's boss, commander, whatever you wanted to call it, and Kurama was technically required to follow his orders like everyone else. **

**But Koenma hadn't taken over for his father yet, and despite all outward appearances he and Kurama were friends before they were boss and worker, so Kurama was allowed _some_ leeway. **

"**Ah, Kurama, good to see you!" **

"**Mm-hmm. Wish I could say the same, but I don't really want to be here on a Saturday, so that would only be a lie."**

**Koenma smiled and wasn't offended. In fact, he didn't comment at all except to observe, "I stand by what I said the last time I saw you—he's changed you a lot." **

**Kurama smiled back and suddenly didn't have to force himself not to be annoyed. "Yes. But why am I here?"**

"**Right. Well, I have an assignment for you."**

**He seemed oddly reluctant, and Kurama felt himself tense again. "Why didn't you call Yusuke, then?" he asked slowly. "_He's_ our leader, not me."**

"**Because this isn't an assignment for _them_. Not yet, anyway." At Kurama's look, Koenma sighed. "Why don't you sit?"**

"**Because I never do. Get to the point."**

**And Koenma did, with admirable swiftness. "I'm sending you to the United States." **

**There was a moment of silence, unbroken by the noise that still had to be going on outside. "…Come again?" **

"**The United States. Sunnydale, California, to be exact."**

**Kurama was well-practiced in hiding his emotions, but now he gaped openly at Koenma. "That's thousands of miles from here." It was all he could think to say. **

"**Yes, it is," Koenma agreed.**

"**And you want us to just pack up and leave."**

"**No, I want _you_ to pack up and leave." **

"**_What?"_**

"**Kurama, please, just hear me out before you get mad. Let me explain the situation."**

**Kurama stared at him for a moment, then threw up his hands in defeat. "All right, talk."**

**He wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he _thought_ that a look of relief crossed Koenma's face. "It's fairly simple, on the surface. I recently received reports of problems in Sunnydale. I'm not sure what kind—they were conveniently vague—but I do know that there's a chance it has something to do with the Hellmouth…and that it's something _dark_."**

"**Th-the _what_?"**

"**You heard me correctly. The Hellmouth. Sunnydale opens directly into one of the hell dimensions, and unlike Makai it isn't blocked from the human world." **

"**So…why haven't you sent us before?"**

"**Because of the Slayer."**

**Another pause. "Okay, you've lost me again."**

**Koenma was very pleased by this pronouncement, but he hid it well. "The Slayer. She hunts and destroys demons—mostly the lesser races like vampire and other human-demon hybrids—but as far as I can tell she's not averse to taking down an apocalypse once in a while…" **

"**She?"**

"**Yes. The Slayer is always one woman. The texts say specifically: 'In every generation, there is a Chosen One. One girl in all the world. She alone will stand against the vampires, demons, and forces of darkness.' A new Slayer is called the moment the old Slayer dies, and she goes immediately into training. This year's model is called Buffy Summers, and she lives in Sunnydale." **

"**And you didn't tell us any of this before _because_?"**

"**I didn't think it mattered. As long as the Slayer stayed away from my Reikai Tentei, I didn't think I needed to bring it up. But that was before. Now is the time I'm concerned about." **

"**So let me get this straight. You want me to leave home and everyone here and go across the world to meet a girl who hunts my kind and may actually have the power to take me down." **

"**Yes."**

"**Well, as long as I know what's going on."**

**Koenma tried to smile, but it seemed very forced. "But, Kurama, understand that I won't—can't—force you to go. I'd be forever grateful because you're the only one of the team that can do this the way I want it done, but you can refuse and I'll find another way and I won't hold it against you. That's a promise."**

**Kurama looked at him for a long time, his face absolutely unreadable. Koenma fidgeted and was just about to break the uncomfortable silence when Kurama asked, "What would I have to do?" **

**Koenma's face broke into a smile. "That's the easy part—I want you to do what you already do."**

"…**Which is?"**

"**I want you to be a college student."**

"**Koenma, have you gone mad?"**

"**I'm serious, Kurama. I want you to enroll at U.C. Sunnydale," Koenma said seriously. **

"**And what, exactly, would be the point of that?"**

"**Well, the Slayer's best friend attends classes there. Her name is Willow Rosenberg and she, like you, is very smart. She's also a witch—yes, a full, very powerful, spell-casting witch. I want you to make friends with her."**

"**Koenma! You can't be serious! I won't use her to get to the Slayer! I don't _use_ people. Not anymore. You know that."**

"**Who said anything about using her? No, I meant exactly what I said—I want you to be her friend and her friends' friend and Buffy Summers' friend. If they become your friends, they will trust you. When they trust you, you can tell them who you are. Then you can tell them why you are in California. There's an excellent chance that the Slayer has no idea what's going on and if she doesn't find out she can't fight it." **

"**So why can't we fight it on our own? All of us? Without the Slayer?" **

**It was Koenma's turn to give an impassive stare, and after a moment Kurama said quietly, "Wow. That bad, huh?" **

"…**I don't know. And that makes me think…yes." **

**End Flashback**

And so the very next day, Kurama had said goodbye to his friends, packed up, and taken a portal straight to California. Koenma's people had him enrolled and got him a dorm and he started classes as soon as he was relatively settled in. His friends had promised to call, and they had, but only a couple of times, not because they didn't care, but because it only made them miss each other more.

And meanwhile, he'd been here for a month as of last week and no sign of anyone with Willow Rosenberg's description…

Kurama's musing was abruptly interrupted in a rather unpleasant way when, upon turning a corner, he crashed into another person going the opposite way. His bag of books dropped off his shoulder and fell open, sending a couple of books to lie open on the ground and pencils and pens to scatter everywhere.

"Oh, for the love of—this is just _classic_—" Kurama swore in Japanese as he crouched to pick up one of the books, wondering if the entire world was just against him all of a sudden. The person he'd crashed into strode past as if he wasn't there, and Kurama bit down on his lip to school himself into not killing anyone.

"Hey, you could at least mutter an apology!"

Kurama very nearly lost it. As it was, it became impossible not to mutter a string of words that would make a sailor blush, should that sailor speak Japanese.

"I'm sorry, what?" the speaker asked, and Kurama flushed when he realized that it was the other guy she had been yelling at, not him. Now her voice was friendly and sweet, and she knelt to hand him the two pens she'd picked up and so put herself into his line of vision.

She was a very pretty girl, with straight dark blond hair that fell past her shoulders and soft open eyes, and right now she was smiling innocently at him as she helped gather up the rest of his spilled things. He found himself smiling back, his mood lifting slightly.

"Arigato," he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

She looked politely puzzled, and Kurama realized then that he'd spoken in Japanese.

"Oh…um, I meant thank you. For helping me."

She smiled again. "Oh. No problem. I'm sorry about that, though. Some people aren't very polite in college." She held out her hand. "I'm Tara McClay."

Kurama took the offered hand and shook it. "K—Suuichi. Suuichi Minamono."

"Suuichi Minamono. I like that. It's Japanese, right?"

"Yes. I'm from Tokyo," Kurama explained, and he didn't notice that he and the girl had started walking with no real path or purpose.

"Wow. That's…far," Tara said, looking rather awed at the idea. "How did you end up in Sunnydale?"

"Oh…I'm an exchange student. I transferred here last month."

She didn't even ask why he had chosen tiny Sunnydale, and for that Kurama was grateful—he had known this girl for all of two minutes and already he hated to lie to her. Instead, she asked, "So how are you liking California?"

Oh, how he loved a question he could answer truthfully! "It's not bad. Warmer than home, and quieter, but…I miss my friends. And my mother."

"I'm afraid I can't really sympathize. Before I moved here I didn't have any friends, and family…" She shrugged.

"I'm sorry…" Kurama said awkwardly, hating the idea of this girl being alone.

"Oh, no, don't be. Like I said, things changed when I came here. I have plenty of people to love me now. In fact, if you want to come along with me, I'll introduce you to one of them right now."

XXX

"Willow!"

"There you are—I was getting worried. Thought a beastie'd gotten y—who is that man and why is he staring at me?"

Kurama realized, after a moment, that she was looking at him, and he forced himself to put his trademark expressionless mask up in order to not look as surprised as he felt.

Tara McClay had led him straight to Willow Rosenberg.

It was almost the last thing he'd expected.

Right before Tara McClay being gay and in love with Willow Rosenberg.

But the latter became quite obvious when Willow gave Tara a kiss full on the lips—before she noticed Kurama, of course.

So it was really no wonder that he stared. But he recovered himself quickly enough, and held out his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm Suuichi Minamono."

Tara looked completely oblivious to the idea that her being gay made have made Kurama uncomfortable—it didn't, but it could have—but Willow seemed mildly surprised that he didn't even comment on it. However, she followed his lead and simply said, "Willow Rosenberg. That's me."

She was definitely something more than human—that Kurama knew right away. Her energy print was human, but there was something else, too—a distinct feeling of _power_ that wasn't human, or demon, or spirit. Tara had it, too, but it wasn't as potent—Willow was, by far, the more powerful of the two. The most worrying thing was that this power was utterly neutral—it could be used for good, or unimaginable evil.

But she wasn't evil. Kurama was sure of that. And a tool is only as bad as its user…

"Suuichi's an exchange student all the way from Tokyo," Tara chimed in excitedly.

"Really? That's…far. I've never even left little old Sunnydale," Willow told Kurama, sounding a little envious, but not in a bad way. "Is it nice in Tokyo?"

Kurama felt himself begin to smile. He had thought that this assignment would be difficult, but in fact Willow and Tara seemed to be so open to friendship that they were practically doing it for him. Maybe this assignment wouldn't totally suck after all…

"Well, let me make a deal with you ladies. Come with me and I'll buy you lunch and tell you all about it."

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AN: Okay, I know this was a little shorter than the last chapter, but I didn't want to add crap just for the sake of lengthening it. Next chapter we go back to Japan! But until then, review, please! That little purple box makes the medicine go down and the world go 'round!

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"**Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." –Anais Nin**


	4. Chapter 3: Confusion

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**Tokyo, Japan**

His head should have hurt—badly. Dean, with all of his experience in physical injury, knew this. He also knew that since it didn't, he was either in shock, highly medicated, or dead.

All three ideas were pretty equally alarming.

But the next moment, a far more important thought drowned the rest out. _Sam_.

Dean forced himself to breathe carefully, and then he opened his eyes and sat up. He didn't experience any of the dizziness or nausea the movement should have brought, and usually he would have welcomed this, but the abnormality of it and the worry over Sam left no room for other thoughts.

Even so, as he looked around, many realizations crashed over him at once.

One: it was night, so he had either slept for only a few hours, or a day, or several, had already passed. He hoped desperately that it was the former, but there was really no way to know right now, so he set the question aside.

Two: he was not in their motel room, or any motel room. He wasn't on a bed, either—he was sitting on a thickly padded mat on a clean wooden floor. The room was completely furnished with a brown wooden dresser, a dark red cushioned armchair, and a mirror hung on the wall.

Three: The door to the room was closed, as if some considerate person had wanted to see that he wasn't disturbed. But it wasn't comforting—rather, it just left Dean feeling trapped and closed in, like a caged animal.

Four: his bag, and Sam's, were set carefully against the wall, unopened, as if that same person wanted to make him as comfortable as possible, and somehow knew that he was only comfortable if he was armed.

And five: Sam was asleep on a mat across the room. Dean felt such relief that for a moment the lightheadedness he had expected did come. Once it was past, he pushed aside the blankets that had been thrown over him and went over, feeling another pang of surprise when his legs didn't shake or grow weak.

He knelt down next to Sam and looked him over. The first thing that jumped out at him was that his brother was unmarked. All of the bruises had faded from his face, and the cut on his arm, which should have been visible under the edge of Sam's white T-shirt, was completely gone. When Dean reached down and felt for a pulse, he found it beating strongly. But Sam's skin was hot to the touch—he had a fever. And as Dean watched him, his brow furrowed, and he shifted uneasily in his sleep.

It was a nightmare, Dean was sure of it, and he reached out and gently shook Sam, trying to rouse him. Sam twitched and slept on, but he relaxed at the touch and seemed peaceful enough. Dean brushed a hand quickly through his hair—a gesture he would never repeat when Sam was awake—and then stood up. He was determined to find out what was going on now that he knew Sam was okay.

He didn't notice his brother's muscles tense again as his hand left the other man's shoulder.

XXX

_Sam was walking, but he had no idea where he was or why he was there. What he did know was that he was alone, and that he shouldn't be. His surroundings were so shrouded in fog that he couldn't make out even basic shapes. He would have expected to be cold, but he wasn't. In fact, he felt nothing at all—not cold or warmth or pain or tiredness—nothing._

_But he _really _wished he knew where he was…_

XXX

Dean may have had a lot to worry about at the moment, but he was still a hunter, with a hunter's instincts, which was what made him first go to their bags and take out a short, sturdy metal axe, well-sharpened and much-used. Holding it with a sure touch, he crept across the room and touched the doorknob lightly. He fully expected it to be locked, and jumped back in surprise when it opened easily.

The room opened into a hallway, dimly lit by a light at the end. To the left was just a wall, so Dean headed to the right, his steps soundless without his boots, the axe ready at all times. Ahead of him, the hall turned, and he couldn't see beyond that point. For all he knew, as nice as this place was, _something_ was waiting around the corner to ambush him—maybe the bastard that had attacked him…

"You don't have to sneak around, you know."

Dean cursed audibly and whirled around, raising the axe in a smooth movement. A young woman was standing behind him, watching him with a small smile. Her face was gentle and sweet, completely untouched by any makeup or unnatural product. Her hair was a pale greenish-blue, but it didn't seem to be dyed. _Well, that's a little weird_…

"How the hell did you get behind me?"

She looked at him for a moment, and her eyes reminded him of something…but he couldn't remember what. Then she lifted her hand and pointed wordlessly to a cracked door next to her, which she'd apparently just come out of, and the moment passed.

"What were you doing?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I was about to go check on you and the other one. How is he?" she asked, and he couldn't help but notice how clear and soft her voice was.

Dean cautiously lowered his ace. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to trust this girl. "What's your name?"

"I am Yukina." She didn't ask who he was.

"Pretty name," Dean said, giving her his most winning smile, more out of habit than anything, although there was no denying that she was rather good-looking.

Yukina shrugged slightly. "I suppose." She turned her back on him as if the axe he held didn't exist, and he found himself following her as she went toward the room in which Sam still slept. She closed the door after he stepped in, and walked over to crouch next to Sam. Dean scrutinized her closely as she checked Sam's pulse, pushed back his hair to feel his forehead, and checked his breathing. After a long moment, she sighed and stood up.

"What's the matter with him?" Dean asked, half of him not wanting to hear the answer and the other half needing to know.

She seemed troubled. "I'm not sure. All of his injuries are completely healed and yet he doesn't wake, and he runs a fever though he shouldn't."

"Will he be okay?"

"I'm certain that he will. I just…there's nothing even wrong with him anymore! Or there shouldn't be. But it's as if something's going on in his head that's keeping him this way…"

XXX

_Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but he was getting _seriously_ bored. What was the _point _of this? Was he even _awake_? He didn't _feel_ awake…but if he was dreaming how was he thinking so clearly? Even in his vision-dreams, his mind had always been a muddle of confusion. He had never been able to reason this way in any of his other dreams._

_But Dean wasn't with him, so he must have been in a place where his brother couldn't follow._

_So, the way he saw it, there were only two possibilities: he was dreaming after all, or his injuries had been far more serious than he'd thought and he was dead._

Well, this bites…

XXX

"Well, this bites," Dean murmured, trying to keep his voice casual to hide his fear.

"I think you shouldn't worry," Yukina said. "He will wake. I'm sure of it. But we must let him rest now."

"I'm not leaving him," Dean replied instantly, moving closer to Sam's cot.

She smiled, and Dean got the feeling that she was smothering a laugh. "You did once already."

Dean flushed, and his voice was hard as he replied, "Only to figure out what's going on and whether or not someone was waiting to kill us."

Yukina held up her hand, the amusement fading. "My apologies. Please, don't be angry. I meant no insult."

Dean looked at her for a long time. "Who are you?" he asked suddenly, all of the questions he had suddenly beginning to pour out. "Who were the guys who ambushed us? Are they here, too? How long have we been here? And where's _here,_ anyway? _What is going on_?"

"Please!" she interrupted. "Please, I promise that your questions will be answered, but you need to eat and your friend will be fine if you leave him alone. Come with me and…well, some things will be explained, at any rate."

Dean sighed heavily. "Fine, whatever. But if anything happens—"

She giggled, and regardless of the way he was feeling at the moment Dean wanted to smile at the sound. "You are very much like my brother. But it will be _fine_."

Dean opened his mouth, but before he could say anything more Yukina took him by the arm and led him firmly toward the door with a surprisingly strong grip. Dean allowed himself to be guided, not really sure what else to do.

Yukina took him down the hallway and around the corner, and Dean saw that the room connected to it was a kitchen, albeit a very plain one. Everything was white except the table, which was a very light brown wood, and it was all scrubbed meticulously clean.

But Dean didn't notice any of that. He was too focused on the people sitting around the table.

There were three of them, all sitting silently as if waiting for something. On the left side was the black-haired man who had attacked Dean. He was very young, probably a few years younger than Sam—Dean hadn't had the time to notice that before—but his face was hard and care-worn and his eyes were too mature and Dean knew that he had seen more of life by now than he'd ever cared to.

Sitting on the other side of the table was a tall, broad-shouldered, carrot-topped man who looked about the age of the black-haired guy, maybe a few months older. His expression was a bit happier than his friends, but he still seemed far older than he looked.

The third person was at the head of the table. She was a very old, very tiny woman. She sat cross-legged in her chair, complacently drinking from a mug as if she had not a care in the world. Her face was wrinkled and lined with more than age, and she seemed extremely frail. More than anyone else, she captured Dean's attention—what was a little old lady doing amid the people responsible for him and Sam being stuck here?

These three people seemed to be the only ones in the room at first, but then Dean noticed a small figure standing against the wall, arms crossed, utterly still. It was the thing that had attacked them the first time, but now Dean could look at it properly. It looked completely human now, except for the brilliant red of its eyes. It had spiky black hair with an odd white starburst, and the third eye was covered with a white headband. The bandage on its arm was covered by its long tunic-like cape, as was its sword. It was almost as skinny as the old woman, but unmistakably strong. It looked to be only in its twenties or so but must have been many times that. And its face was as expressionless as it had been when they'd met, as if its existence hinged on showing the world absolutely nothing of what it felt. Dean felt his anger rising, but he quelled it with extreme force of will—there were too many people around.

The most puzzling thing, though, was that the other three were human. Dean was sure of it. They were human and they were sitting calmly with a demon in their midst, as if it were perfectly normal. And the thing wasn't trying to hurt any of them.

_Why_?

All of this was filed away in Dean's mind in the ten seconds it took for the three at the table to look over at the doorway.

The black-haired man stood first, and came toward Dean with his hand outstretched. "I'm Yusuke Urameshi," he said in accented English, and Dean found himself shaking hands with the person who had dragged him to this place. Yusuke seemed to read his thoughts, and said, "Like I told you before, I'm really sorry for the way we brought you here. I didn't want to hurt you, but…Hiei seemed to think it was urgent, and that's so rare that I sort of panicked. Is your head okay?"

For a moment, Dean was taken aback and just stared at him. Then he asked, "Who's Hiei?" without answering Yusuke's question.

Yusuke seemed to hesitate, then said, "Let me introduce you and we'll talk. This is Kuwabara—" The orange-haired man stepped forward to shake, too. "—And she's Genkai." That was the old lady, and when she pushed back her chair and stood Dean was surprised at the surety of her steps. Then she took his hand and her grip was strong, very much belying her size. "And that's Hiei. He won't come over here, though, he's too grumpy."

Okay, this was just getting weirder and weirder. Like Sam, these people spoke as if the thing were human. But that couldn't be right—it was just another evil thing.

Wasn't it?

Yusuke saw the confusion on his face, and he sighed. "Listen, why don't you sit down? All this must seem kinda weird to you…it's weird to us, too…do you want coffee?"

"No." Because regardless of his confusion, Dean Winchester would not take something an enemy offered.

Yusuke sighed. "You're still mad."

"Can you blame him?" the man named Kuwabara asked, sounding irritated. "You knocked him over the head without telling him why, and Hiei attacked his friend."

"Brother," Dean corrected automatically.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Brother. Just kinda makes things worse, doesn't it?" The man turned back to Yusuke, glowering. "You," he said, "are an idiot." Then he turned to the demon—Dean just couldn't think of it as anything but "the demon"—and said, "And you're even worse—you're an idiot _and _a shrimp." He added something in another language—Japanese, Dean guessed—that made the demon scowl and snap back.

The old lady suddenly shouted something in a gravelly voice, and Kuwabara fell silent. She said something else, then stalked past Dean without looking at him—her head didn't even reach his chest—and went to the counter. She picked up a cup and poured what Dean recognized as coffee into it, then came over and held it out to Dean.

"I said I don't—"

"Sit down and drink it." She glared at him, looking so formidable that Dean just did as she told him and took a seat at the table. Sam would have laughed at him, but these people seemed to regard following the old lady's orders as the most obvious thing to do.

But even she wasn't going to stop him from asking his questions. "What is this place, anyway?"

"Genkai's temple," Kuwabara replied, sitting down next to him with another glare thrown the demon's way. "Yusuke and Hiei brought you here because it's sort of our meeting place, and it's also the only one with empty rooms."

"But why did they have to bring us anywhere in the first place?" Dean spoke to Kuwabara this time, because out of all of them he seemed to be the most direct and honest. "And why did…Hiei…attack my brother? And why didn't it—um—he—kill us?"

"They brought you here because there are some things we need to sort out. And Hiei attacked you guys because he's a moron—I think. He won't actually tell us anything, so I'm forced to state the obvious." Kuwabara didn't smile because he wasn't joking. "He may not be sorry for hurting your brother, but we are." He did smile then, and Dean smiled back, a little.

"So…how long have we been here?"

For some reason, Kuwabara seemed reluctant to answer this question, although Dean thought it to be the simplest. "Um…about five or six hours, give or take."

"Oh…well, that's not so…wait…what?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's the subtlety we were going for, Kuwabara," Yusuke said, rolling his eyes and sitting across from Dean. Dean stared at him and was surprised not to feel any anger—in fact, the only one in this room he really hated right now was the demon. And he couldn't even dwell on that, really—he was too confused by Kuwabara's revelation.

"That's not possible," he said now, still speaking directly to Kuwabara.

"I know it seems weird, but there's nothing impossible about it."

"But…Sam's injuries…and my head…" Dean looked around at all of them, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"Well, we did agree to tell him," Yusuke said, and Dean's eyes flicked to him. Yusuke sighed, glanced at each of the others momentarily, then focused on Dean. "Listen, don't freak when I tell you this, and don't call me a loony, just listen." Dean didn't even blink, just gave Yusuke a look that clearly said, _I'm waiting_. "Okay, fine. You know demons, and spirits, and monsters, and all those things you heard about in stories as a kid? Well…I don't like to be the one to tell you this, but…they actually do exist."

Dean let the silence go on for a minute before he quirked an eyebrow and said, "Well, yeah. What were you going to tell me next—that the sky is blue?"

The shock on every face would have been comical at any other time—maybe it even was a little now. Even the demon—Hiei—couldn't conceal its—his—really gotta get used to that, Dean—surprise, though within a moment it had disappeared under the stoic mask.

"Y-you _know_?" Kuwabara spluttered at last.

"Are you seriously asking me that? _There's a demon standing by your window_!"

"Wh—how—I thought you said they were human!" Yusuke said, suddenly turning on the demon, who looked at him and didn't say a word.

"We are human. Not normal, but…human. Aren't you?"

Yusuke gave a laugh that held little humor and more than a little bitterness. "Me? God only knows. But Kuwa and Genkai here are. We've all just got a few…extra attributes…that normal people don't have. It's kind of a long story."

"One you're going to tell me, right after you explain why I'm here and how me and Sam are suddenly fine. Or…why _I_ am, anyway."

"Really? What makes you so sure?" Yusuke asked, sounding as if he really did want to know.

Dean normally would have just answered with a cocky phrase or random threat, but things were…strange…here, and the situation needed to be handled carefully if there was going to be any hope of him and Sam getting out of here, so for once Dean paused to think about his answer.

"Because Sam dragged me across the world for a reason, and I'm pretty sure that you guys are it. And if that's true, then it seems to me that it's important for us to be honest with each other if we're going to figure this thing out."

There was another moment of silence, and then Yusuke said, "Okay, where do you want to start?"

Dean took a deep breath. "How about with…my name is Dean. Dean Winchester."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, so this chapter was originally supposed to be much longer, but the first part took up more time than I thought, and that seemed like a good place to stop, so I basically just cut the chapter in half. If I hadn't the wait for this would have been forever. Anyways, with that explained, please review, people!

- - - - - - - - - -

"**The chief lesson I have learned in a long life is that the only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him, and the surest way to make him untrustworthy is to distrust him and to show your mistrust." –Henry L. Stimson**


	5. Chapter 4: Let's Have A Plan

AN: Okay, so I just wanted to put a quick note up to all of you who actually read this: I am SO CONFUSED about where to put it! It's a crossover of all these shows and I dunno where it should go! Is this category as good as any other one? And if not, can ANYONE tell me where I should put it? If so, PLEASE tell me!

Oh, and also, for anyone who doesn't actually watch the show _Supernatural_, I promise that the actual story WILL be told! I skipped over it here because I already have the whole scenario for when it comes out planned in my pretty little head and I don't wanna risk making the muses mad. But it'll come, I swear. It just may take a couple more chapters…so just try and bear with me, please!

Other than that, please enjoy the chapter! (Please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times or you will be in danger of being shmooshed.)

- - - - - - - - - -

Dean sat back in his chair with a sigh, glad to finally be finished talking. He had spent the last half-hour telling these strangers his life story—or an edited version of it, anyway—and the experience had been profoundly unsettling. He had only ever told one person the full truth in his life, and _she_ hadn't even called in over a year.

But every one of these people had flatly refused to explain anything until he did, and so Dean had ended up backed into a corner. Now, though, it was _his_ turn.

"So…you hunt demons?" the old woman, Genkai, asked.

Okay, maybe not.

"Yeah."

"On your own?"

"With my father and my brother."

"No, I mean, you have no one telling you where to go or what to look for?"

"What're you _talking_ about?" Dean asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Don't you have a boss?" Yusuke asked.

"Um…why?"

"Well…" Yusuke looked slightly disconcerted. "Well, to let you know who needs your help, and when."

Dean scoffed. "Why bother? All we need to do is read the papers. There's always something going on. And then there's S—" Dean cut himself off suddenly. That was one thing he _wasn't_ going to tell them. To cover up the sudden, awkward silence, he said roughly, "Okay, your turn. Who are you people, and how do _you_ know about all this crap?" _And _why_ are you _friends_ with a _demon?

Yusuke sighed. "Well, I did agree to this…but you may want to get another drink. This will take longer than you did."

So, Dean was given a full, warmer cup, and he sat back to listen with an intensity that would have surprised his brother, were Sam around to see.

XXX

_Sam wanted to wake up. This endless gray fog was beginning to get on his nerves. But he also got the feeling that there was a reason that he was stuck here. And he also felt that it would come to him if he could just _concentrate…

_So, he did just that. He forced his thoughts into something resembling an order, and then he began to systematically push them all away, to the very edges of his consciousness. It was much more difficult than he would have thought—he never guessed he had this many cares and ideas in his head—but he kept on until his mind was completely empty. Then slowly, cautiously, he lowered the barriers he had always used to seal his emotions and secrets away, and prepared to let whatever would come in. _

_He wasn't prepared for the assault. _

_The second the last guarding barrier fell away, _something_ pushed itself into his mind. It was sharp and hard, like a shard of glass multiplied a thousand times. And it was absolutely, utterly ruthless, clawing and pushing its way into his mind toward the tiny ball of diamond-bright light that was his life. _

_Sam didn't want to find out what would happen if the attacking force reached that light. He fought frantically to put the barriers up again, but they were batted aside quickly, and Sam realized too late that it was much harder to put his guard back up than to take it down, because something was fighting him tooth and nail. _

_And all the while, the pain just kept growing, until he couldn't even think past it, and only fought out of determination born from ten years of fighting for his life. And even that was dying now…and so was he. This was it, and his death was going to be his own fault… _

XXX

"SAMMY, WAKE UP, MAN!" Dean shouted frantically, shaking his brother's shoulder. Sam, for once, paid him no attention, arching up off the floor and clawing at his blankets as another scream tore from his throat. "I thought you said he was _fine_," Dean growled at Yukina as he pinned Sam to the pallet, his words strained from the effort.

His anger faltered slightly when he saw the fear in her eyes, but he was too scared for it to fade completely. "_Help him!"_

Yukina didn't even speak—she just ran over and crouched next to him, and the next time Sam lay flat for a moment, she reached out and placed a hand on his forehead, and closed her eyes.

XXX

_The pain felt like it had been going on for hours, but somehow Sam knew that it was only a few minutes. At one point, he lost the ability to stand and just fell to his knees and then dropped flat on the ground, where he curled up in a ball and rocked back and forth and focused all his will on not giving in, because if he did, even for a moment, he wouldn't ever be able to come back. _

_Endless moments later, the force attacking him flickered, and weakened slightly. Sam instantly started to push himself to his feet—only to collapse again as the crippling pain hit once more. _

XXX

"What's she doing?" Dean asked quietly, staring at Yukina, who looked to be in some kind of trance, her hand resting on Sam's forehead. Dean was still gripping a now-semi-quiet Sam's shoulder, his knuckles white, while the other three grouped themselves around the pallet. The demon was standing in the doorway, face still expressionless, though his posture seemed oddly stiff.

"I dunno," Kuwabara replied. "But you can be sure that she's helping him."

Dean looked up sharply at his tone, and the look he caught on Kuwabara's face probably would have made him smirk at another time. Now, though, he just gave a curt nod and turned back to his brother.

Ten seconds later, Yukina's eyes flew open and she jerked away from Sam with a gasp, falling back against the wall. She sat there, panting, and Kuwabara immediately jumped forward to help her. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could have sworn he saw Hiei take a couple steps into the room, though he wasn't paying much attention.

"What happened?" Dean asked harshly, grabbing Sam with his other hand as Sam began to scream again.

"Something—something's hurting him. It…it's _strong_. Magic. Dark magic. Dean, I can't help him."

"You have to!" Dean practically shouted, now trying to keep blind panic at bay.

"I _can't_. None of us can! It's too close—to his mind. Fighting it would only kill him. He's resisting, though, just as hard as he can. All we can do is try to get him to keep doing it."

XXX

_There was no warning before the attack ceased. One moment the pain was there, and then it was gone, leaving only an ache in every muscle to remind him. Sam lay still for a while, then cautiously uncurled his body and rolled onto his back, half-expecting the attack to resume with every movement._

_When nothing happened, Sam slowly sat up and looked around at the endless gray fog. "What the _hell_ was that?" He said it aloud, just to hear _something_ other than the pressing silence. _

_"Something that is _not _happy with you would be my guess." _

_Sam managed to turn his yell of surprise into a choked gasp as he twisted to find the source of the voice, and almost instantly his eyes fell on a man standing about five feet away. The man was studying him intently, his green eyes penetrating and a little sad. He wasn't tall, probably a few heads shorter than Sam, and he was skinny, though he didn't look unhealthy. _

_"How did—you know what, never mind. Who are you?" _

_The guy smiled. "No one important. Just someone trying to help." He had a thick Irish accent that made Sam smile, even though he was in quite a bit of trouble, it would seem. "Are you all right?" _

_"I'm alive. More than I expected. Can you tell me what's going on?" _

_"You're asleep." _

_"Duh. But what was that—" _

_"You shouldn't even need to ask, what with the life you lead. It was a demon. A nasty one, too—took everything I had to beat it back. But I can't hold it long—you have to get out of here before I lose my grip, so to speak." _

_"But what's going on?" _

_"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry. But it isn't time yet." _

_"Time? What—" _

_"Just trust me, okay? You'll understand. I promise. Just—not now." _

_"Who _are_ you?" Sam asked again, determined to find out _something

_The guy smiled at him as he turned and began to walk away, replying over his shoulder, "You can call me…Doyle." _

XXX

Dean's heart stopped when Sam went still. In a flash he saw Yukina proclaiming his baby brother dead, and he saw Sam's funeral, and he saw their father finally showing his face for the first time in over six months to say goodbye to his younger son, and he saw himself traveling all alone again…

Then the visions faded and Dean grabbed Sam's wrist to feel for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady and normal, and Dean let his shoulders slump for a brief moment before steeling himself again. Meanwhile, Yukina reached out and touched Sam's forehead again. "His fever's breaking…" she murmured, sounding confused. "He seems fine."

Dean tried to hide the fact that he was shaking as he sat back on his heels and raked a hand through his hair. "What _was_ that?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, he's had nightmares before, but this was…"

"Well, eh seems fine now," Yukina said. "Why don't you…"

"I'm not leaving him again," Dean said instantly, and this time he meant it.

"I didn't think you would," she said, smiling. "I was going to ask if you would let me get you something to eat. There's no way anyone around here is getting any sleep tonight anyway, it's like three in the morning…"

Dean shook his head, too tired to find the time surprising. "I still want to know about you guys. I want to know why I'm still here when this place is hurting Sam. Now start talking."

After a moment of silence, Kuwabara sighed and said, "You're gonna have to go first, Urameshi. This whole thing did start with you."

Yusuke nodded and sat down cross-legged on the floor. The others followed suit and the demon walked over to lean against a wall, where he—Dean had forced himself to keep thinking of the thing this way, at least for now—remained motionless. Yusuke cleared his throat and began to speak in a low voice.

"Up until I was fourteen years old, I was a real bastard. You're smiling, but that's pretty much the only way to describe me. I picked fights with everyone, I enjoyed scaring people whenever and wherever the opportunity came, I hardly ever went to school…I was that guy you love to hate and I liked the reputation. My dad had been AWOL from the time I was born and my mother was a mess, drinking herself into oblivion every day for as long as I can remember. I'm not making excuses, but it's a fact that my childhood was a major contributing factor to my behavior."

"And has that changed at all?" Dean asked seriously. "Because you still seem like a guy who's pretty into brute force."

Yusuke grimaced. "I deserved that, I know. But to answer your question…a person can't go through what I did and _not_ change. I wasn't the only one either—Kuwabara used to be a _lot_ stupider." He grinned and his friend scowled. "And Hiei used to be even more withdrawn…don't look at me like that, it's the truth, God as my witness. We all went through hell and we all changed—maybe with the exception of Genkai."

"What happened?"

"I died. See, you're giving me that look again—oh, come on, don't be like that, man…"

Dean stood straight up, grabbing the axe he'd set down next to him during Sam's freak out. "So you're some kind of spirit, then? Is that it?"

"No. I don't know what I am, but I'm as alive as you are. Sit _down,_ you're behaving like an animal. _Listen_, and you'll get it." When Dean didn't move, Yusuke rolled his eyes and said, "I will swear on whatever the hell you want that I don't want to hurt you, okay? I only want to help."

Dean glared at him and slowly laid his axe down and took his seat again. "I dunno _why_ I keep doing this…"

"Because despite all of this you have a clear mind and good judgment and you can tell I'm not lying. Well, like I said, I died. I was hit by a car saving a little kid who had chased a ball into the road—something _totally_ not like me, by the way—and the medics didn't get there in time. I know, really lame way to die, but nevertheless, it caused a huge uproar in the Reikai—the Spirit World. That's where all the souls of the departed go to be judged and to be sent on to whatever plane of existence they're meant for in their next life. Anyway, it turned out that I wasn't supposed to die that day—because seriously, who'd expect _me_ to die saving someone?—so there wasn't a place prepared for me yet. And because of that, I got a second chance, and a choice: I could stay dead and go to another plane, or I could go through a test given to me by the Reikai prince, Koenma, and if I passed, I could return to life."

"Well, I was sure there would be a catch _somewhere_, and so I didn't say anything right away. The person who had brought me the message—Botan, Pilot of the River Styx, special messenger for Koenma, in charge of ferrying souls to the Reikai—she's otherwise known as the Grim Reaper—"

Dean had made up his mind not to show his thoughts on his face, no matter what Yusuke said, but he couldn't keep the surprise off his face now. "You've met a _Reaper_?"

Yusuke shot him a puzzled look. "What do you mean _a_ Reaper? Botan's the only one I know of, and she doesn't exactly belong to the black-robed scary-face crowd. She's a little weird, and way too perky for her own good, but she's…Botan, when all is said and done. I'm pretty sure there isn't more than one of her, thank God."

"Oh, yes there ism—I've seen one, and he was _definitely_ a man."

"You saw one? That's…well, maybe I'm mistaken and Koenma has more than one Pilot…but even so, it's still true that people from the Reikai are only visible to people when they choose to be—and _that_ usually only happens when you're already dead…but _that_ means…" Large brown eyes fixed on Dean. "Well, well, well…looks like I'm not the only one who's had one foot in the grave."

Dean shrugged. "It was no big deal. I had a heart attack a month or so ago. A pretty massive one, because of a high-voltage shock—hundred thousand volts. They gave me two weeks to a month." He looked down at his brother then, and the look on his face would have tugged at anyone's heartstrings if they had any feelings at all. "Sam saved me. He took me to a faith healer, and I was cured. That was when I saw the Reaper. Long story short, it was bound to this insane-o chick who was using a spell to force it to save people she saw as good, and kill people she deemed wicked. Anyway, I've never seen another one since."

Yusuke looked thoughtful. "Well, you _are_ an odd one. Maybe Hiei was right…" He shook his head. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Botan knew I was having a hard time deciding, and she told me she thought that maybe if I saw the reactions to my death it would help. So I went to check out my wake. I have to say, I wasn't expecting much. I didn't have any friends or anyone to care about me. So I was pretty shocked at the number or people. I mean, sure, most of them were kids from school who probably only came because it was expected, but here and there were people who were genuinely there to mourn. My mother was one. And this teacher from my school who's always tried to look out for me, though I never did do anything but make him miserable. You have no idea how bad I feel about that now. There was also Keiko, my girlfriend, who you probably won't meet, but I think you'd like her. She could smack you back into the Stone Age, I don't care how many demons you've fought. Kuwabara showed up, too—which I still don't get, considering how much we'd hated each other before I died.

"Anyways, it was those four who convinced me. I watched them mourn, and I watched them cry, and I made my decision and sealed my fate. I went and told Botan I wanted my life back." Yusuke paused, brooding. "I still don't know if it was the right thing to do. I don't suppose I ever will. If there's one thing I've learned—and I've learned a lot—it's that the line between right and wrong is oftentimes to blurred it's impossible to distinguish between the two. But whether it was right or not, Botan took me to Koenma, and he gave me my test—in the form of an egg.

"There was absolutely nothing remarkable about that egg. It was just a little brown-gold thing. I thought it was a chicken egg at first. Then Koenma explained that it was the egg of a spirit beast. My test would be to keep it until it hatched. The egg would feed off my actions and feelings, and they would influence the creature's personality. If I was a good person—inside where it counted—the egg would hatch and the thing inside would be good and I would be returned to life. If I proved to be evil, so would the thing in the egg, and when it hatched it would devour me, soul and all.

"I never finished the test."

"What? What happened?" Dean asked, because despite his reservations he was really getting into this story.

Yusuke smiled wryly. "Well, during my test, I didn't have a lot to do, so I took to watching my house, where my mother had put my body on the floor on a pallet when Koenma had put a pulse back in me so I wouldn't be cremated. When I wasn't watching the house I was going berserk from boredom or stalking Keiko and Kuwabara. Well, one day when I was following Keiko, she went to my house like she sometimes did, to take care of me. That day happened to be the hottest, driest day of the year so far and, as is _completely_ my luck, some idiot chose to set my house on fire—with Keiko inside. She could've gotten our, but…she wouldn't leave me there.

"Botan was with me when it happened, and for a minute or two she watched me try every conceivable way to get Keiko out of there. And then she told me that there was another way. She said that if I took my egg and threw it in the fire, the creature inside would know what I wanted and it would save Keiko. But if I did that, my chance to go back would be gone.

"I threw the egg in the fire, and everything went exactly as Botan said. Energy from the egg stopped the fire and Keiko was able to get out with my body. I thought it was all over then—because Botan _had_ told me so—but later Koenma came to me and told me that because I had chosen the unselfish path I would be brought back to life anyway.

"And he did it, too. He kept his word, and brought me back. But that's not the end…it's nowhere _near_ the end."

"Plus, this is where _we_ come in, so it's bound to get interesting," Kuwabara added, and Dean caught the smile before it could show on his face.

"Y'see, Koenma didn't exactly give me back my life for free. It came with a job—and I really had no choice in the matter, either. Soon after I got back, I was made the Spirit Detective of Earth, working directly for Koenma. It was my job to keep peace in the Three Realms by destroying anything that wanted to hurt humans."

"Yeah, and a bang-up job you're doing, too," Dean muttered.

"Right, about that…I'm confused. I really don't know how all those things escaped notice, but I'm sorry for it. You shouldn't have to do what you do. Actually, you probably shouldn't be doing it at all. It's not generally safe for humans, and…"

"Back off, little man," Dean snapped, and Yusuke fell silent. "Don't you ever patronize me like that again. Nothing has ever been safe for me or Sam, and that has nothing to do with the fact that we're human. It's because of the number we've killed. And that's _my_ choice. I could quit this life, sure. But I'm never going to, and don't assume that I'm going to stop on a word from _anyone_, whether it be a random guy on the street or your Koenma himself."

"I'm sorry," Yusuke said quietly. "I didn't realize…"

"I know that. Don't worry about it. Just watch it," Dean said gruffly. "Go on."

"Right. Well, my first real job as Spirit Detective was to participate in a contest to become the apprentice to Genkai here. She was actually a pretty good fighter…back in the day."

"I can still kick the crap out of you," Genkai said reflexively, her response apparently conditioned by long experience.

"There were _hundreds_ of people there," Yusuke went on, flashing Genkai a cocky grin. "And one of them was Kuwabara, who got roped into participating even though he only wanted to see Genkai because his vibes were acting up."

"Vibes?"

"Yeah. I get…feelings…sometimes. I can sense spirits, and judge peoples' power levels, stuff like that," Kuwabara explained.

"You don't get…visions…do you?" Dean asked, his mouth suddenly rather dry.

"Are you serious?" Kuwabara scoffed. "That's…what's that American movie…with the scary man who wrote the book that said the same thing over and over? The Shining. That's like The Shining."

Dean couldn't help it—he threw back his head and laughed until tears came into his eyes. The looks he got only made him laugh harder. "I'm sorry," he murmured when he was able to talk again. "That's what I said when Sam—never mind. So you two were in this contest to be _her_ apprentice…" He nodded at Genkai. "Who won?"

"Urameshi, obviously. I ended up breaking most of the bones in my body," Kuwabara said, smiling.

_That_ brought up a whole new set of questions, but Dean knew that if he asked them now he would _never_ get the full story, so he filed them away for later.

"Well, anyways, after I won I went into training for six months, and by the time I was done I was the most powerful human in the world." Again, what should have been bragging was nothing other than a simple fact.

"So how'd you meet him?" Dean asked, nodding at Hiei, who still hadn't moved.

Yusuke chuckled at this. "Oh, I was sent to arrest him and this other guy when they were on a take-over-the-world kick—well, Hiei was anyway—the other guy was just trying to help someone. The story would bore you greatly, but we ended up fighting, he kicked the crap outta me, the other guy showed up, got stabbed by accident, Hiei and I fought some more, I won—sort of, anyway00and Hiei and the other guy, who was still alive, remarkably, got put on probation."

Dean nodded curtly—he really wasn't sure how much he wanted to know about the demon right now, anyway. "What about you, Yukina? Where do you come into this?" _This insanity_…

Yukina looked down at her lap and Dean was startled to notice her hands shaking ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Just forget it."

"I was taken captive by a man who very much wanted the money I could provide him," Yukina said, sounding so overly composed that Dean knew she was trying hard to stay calm. "Yusuke and Kuwabara were sent to get me. And…and Hiei followed them, too."

The demon shifted and even made a sound like he was about to speak, but he let Yukina continue uninterrupted.

"He, more than anyone else, wanted to get me out, you see. He had been…searching for me for a very long time, you see. And when he found out that I was being tortured for money…"

"I don't think I've ever seen Hiei that angry before or since," Yusuke broke in, with no trace of humor in his tone. "I don't care if I never see it again, either."

Well, anyway, they all managed to save me, and I went back home for a while, but I came back here to—to look for my brother. I already knew him then, but he never told me who he was, so I continued my search."

"Your brother? Who—oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me." Dean groaned as he suddenly figured out why Yukina's eyes had seemed so familiar. "_Him_?"

"Yes. Hiei is my brother," Yukina replied steadily. "He never told me so—he never _would_ have, if not for his—if not for someone else. But anyway, you asked how I came to be here, and now you know."

"Okay, there are some serious blanks that need filling here. Like, who is that 'other guy' who was there when you met Hiei? And how did you all end up on the same side?"

"Well, the 'other guy' you'll probably meet. His name's Kurama, but he's not exactly here. And as for how we all ended up on the same side—they showed up on one of my jobs with Kuwabara, and after they helped us take care of that they showed up for something _else_, and it all sort of spiraled from there." Yusuke shrugged. "And here we are."

"Huh. Interesting. And about Hiei—I get the feeling you're leaving stuff out."

"You're right, I am. And it's gonna stay that way. That story is Hiei's alone, and I can't share secrets that aren't mine."

And though Dean wanted to argue, he knew it was completely useless. "So…how exactly did Sam and I get all healed up in five hours?"

"Yukina did that," Kuwabara answered. "She's got these _amazing_ healing powers…"

"Oh." That really should have surprised him way more than it did. "Thanks," Dean said to Yukina, who smiled in reply. "And…why were we attacked in the first place?"

Yusuke shrugged. "Well, that's the question, isn't it? From what Hiei was willing to say—and that was less than usual—he attacked you because he thought you were going to hurt someone. Which really wasn't such a leap—you guys were packing some serious heat. But you said you were demon-hunting and I believe you. What _I_ don't get it how Hiei _lost_. Or at least he ended up backing off. We've been waiting for one of you to wake up so we could ask you what happened, since Hiei's not talking right now."

"I don't know what happened," Dean replied. "I was hoping you guys could tell me. One minute we were pulling a John Wayne…"

"I'm sorry? That must be another American phrase…"

"Yeah. Just means we were facing off with Hiei over there. Anyway, then he disappeared, Sam yelled, and the next thing I knew he was lying in my lap with a hole in his arm and his face one big bruise. I didn't see a thing." He shook his head. "I guess it was some kind of time fold, but why didn't it affect Sam?"

"It wasn't a time fold," Yusuke said thoughtfully. "Hiei doesn't need them…"

"Care to share?"

"He can move practically at hyper speed," Yusuke explained. "It's just one of those things some demons do. But he did say your brother fought him, and if you didn't see any of it…well, the only thing I can think of is that your brother…"

"He was moving as fast as Hiei?" Dean finished, every inch of him showing skepticism. "No. There's—it's something else. Sam is _not_—" _A freak…God, what next? _

"I'm sorry, but it's the only explanation that makes even a little bit of sense. The confusing thing is, he's definitely human—"

"Of course he is!" Dean said loudly, his voice ricocheting off the walls. Sam shifted uneasily, and Dean forced his voice back to normal volume. "Of course he's human! He may be a weird, geek human, but he's still a _person_!"

"Which is exactly my point," Yusuke said calmly. "His energy isn't the least bit different from an average human's. He shouldn't be able to match Hiei in a million years. But he did and we have to figure out how."

"Why, though? I mean, it was probably just a freak thing. Once-in-a-lifetime deal." Even as he said it, a little voice in Dean's head mocked, _And how many times in our lives has it actually been a freak thing?_

"And how likely is that, exactly?" Kuwabara asked, unconsciously echoing Dean's thoughts. "Not so much, huh? And if he can't control it, it's worse. That means it could happen again, or he could discover something else. He might hurt you, or himself, completely unintentionally."

Dean looked from face to face, and they all looked back at him without speaking. Last of all, he looked at the demon, Hiei, who met his gaze unflinchingly, his eyes holding a flicker of something that Dean couldn't place. The fact that he allowed them to show anything threw Dean, though, and after a moment he swallowed and said, "What do you want me to do?"

XXX

_Sam left the gray place soon after the stranger Doyle disappeared. It wasn't a conscious decision or anything resembling it. He just remembered Doyle saying how he needed to leave, and suddenly he felt an odd tug at his body, as if someone had thrown a rope around him and was trying to drag him off. Then the fog faded away, and suddenly Sam was plunged into a whirlwind of color, noise, and confusion, through which a picture or scene became clear from time to time. _

_It was comforting, in a way, to be back in the normal, regular dreams. _

XXX

_He saw Dean first. His brother was just standing there, watching Sam, eyes narrow and face hard. Sam knew, instinctively, that Dean was worrying about something, but before he could say anything, John Winchester appeared behind Dean, so close that the two of them were practically touching. _

_Standing there, facing Sam, the two looked remarkably similar. The only real difference was in their expressions. Dean still showed nothing but worry—about _what_?—but John looked angry. Sam knew that look well, having received it many a time growing up, but what could his father be mad about _now_? He hadn't seen his sons in six months! How on earth could he be _mad_ at them?_

_And even more importantly—to Sam anyway—what was Dean worried about? _

XXX

_He was in a city now. A _big_ city, complete with thirty-story buildings and thousands of cars everywhere. It was night, and pedestrians surrounded him, but almost immediately Sam's attention was drawn to one man. _

_There was nothing unusual to draw attention. He was just a man, with brown hair and dark eyes, dressed all in black, standing at the corner where two roads met. No one else seemed to notice him, but to Sam everything about him screamed TAKE NOTE: I'M A REBEL! _

_Then the guy looked around once, and melted into the darkness of an alleyway between two buildings. Sam followed, not really sure why but knowing it was important. Not a minute later. He had slipped into the alleyway, and a second after that he caught sight of the stranger again—beating on another, smaller guy who seemed to be putting up a terrific fight. _

_"_Hey_!" Sam yelled, taking a step forward… _

XXX

_And finding himself in a graveyard. It was still night, but he didn't seem to be anywhere near the huge city anymore. Here, it was dark, and there was no hum of traffic or babble of voices. But this place _did_ have something in common with that alleyway—there was a fight going on, not even ten feet ahead of Sam. _

_He couldn't make anything out at all beyond moving black shapes. But he could tell that the smaller figure was winning. As Sam watched, the larger one was tossed over a gravestone, and the other followed a second later. Sam saw the person reach for something and then kneel down over the one struggling to his feet. _

_The next second, there was a strangled yell, and then silence fell. _

XXX

Sam woke up.

Actually, at first he wasn't quite sure he was awake. His thoughts were still in a whirl, like they always were during his dreams. Plus, he was once again in a place he didn't recognize with no idea of how he had gotten there.

But things felt _real_, in a way they never did in dreams. He could feel the cotton of his shirt brushing his skin as he shifted, and he could feel the blankets covering him…and he could feel the absence of pain.

That was odd, but he didn't know why. He couldn't remember—his memory was just a blank stretch from the moment he had fallen down with his arm laid open until now.

That probably should have been alarming, but he felt only confusion. There was something…peaceful…about this room, and it seemed to block any really negative things. Or maybe it was his own mind that did that—he wasn't sure.

But then, the next moment, Sam forgot all about the peace, in favor of the thought that suddenly struck him. _Where was Dean?_ He remembered falling on top of his brother, and he remembered telling Dean that he was all right, but then nothing. For all Sam knew, that demon had…

Before he could complete the grisly thought, though, footsteps sounded outside the closed door. Sam closed his eyes and smiled his relief—he recognized the slow, careful tread, and knew who it was before the door opened and Dean stepped in.

He looked okay, all things considered, though his every movement bespoke exhaustion. But the important thing was that he didn't seem to have any stab wounds or bruises or anything other than the old scars that marked him as a warrior. Dean was fine.

Sam had reached that verdict by the time Dean closed the door, turned around, and saw Sam watching him. In an instant, most of the tightness left his shoulders, and his haggard features softened into a relieved grin. The fact that he didn't try to hide the relief was startling, and it made Sam wonder how long he'd actually been out for.

"Hi."

Sam found himself chucking at Dean's greeting. "Hi? That's all you're gonna say?"

Dean shrugged and came over to kneel next to him. "Well, I was gonna jump to 'how ya feelin'' if you'd wait a minute." His tone was light, but Sam knew it was a serious question when Dean gave him the patented Winchester appraising stare.

"Well, that depends. We're not dead, right?"

"Does it feel like we are?"

"Are we held here against our wills?"

"We could leave if we wanted, I guess."

"And you're not hurt?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm good."

Dean rolled his eyes at the undeniable chick-flickness of that last part, but he chose to ignore it for the time being.

"Are we still in Japan, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly.

"No, Sam, I just dragged your dead weight onto a plane and flew us back across the world."

Sam shrugged at the sarcasm. "Well, I never know with you. So we're still in Japan. Where?"

"A temple. It belongs to this really old, unbelievably _scary_ chick. She's putting us up for awhile."

"How…did that demon bring us here?"

"Not on his own."

"Dean, will you stop dancing around the subject and tell me what's going on? Where's the demon now? And who helped him bring us here? And _why_ are we here?"

Dean looked carefully at him, as if trying to decide something. "Can you get up?"

"Huh?"

"Can you get up?" Dean repeated, with exaggerated patience. "As in, get up off the floor and come with me?"

"Um…yeah…but…"

"Good. C'mere, then," Dean said, reaching out and grabbing hold of Sam's shoulder and gently raising him up. Sam stumbled as he got to his feet, then steadied himself on Dean's arm and let his brother lead him to the door.

XXX

When the brothers got to the kitchen, they found five people sitting around the table, wearing expressions of annoyance and impatience. Two of them were arguing in Japanese at the moment, though the others looked likely to jump in at any time.

"Who's Koenma?" Sam asked quietly, leaning against the wall.

"What?"

"They're arguing about whether to go talk to Koenma first. Who's he? And what're they planning that they need to talk about with him?"

"You speak Japanese?"

"Enough to get by on. I picked it up at school. Who're these guys, Dean?"

Instead of replying, Dean cleared his throat loudly, and as one the five turned their heads toward the door. Sam started a little as he realized that one of the guys that had been arguing was the demon.

They all stared at him, and Sam shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. There was something about their eyes when they looked at him…he couldn't put his finger on it, but it made him uncomfortable.

"So you finally woke up," the guy who had been arguing with the demon said, pushing back his chair and standing up. "I'm Yusuke. That's Kuwabara, Genkai, Yukina, and Hiei. Are you feeling better?"

"Uh…yeah, I'm fine…"

"Here, sit down," Yusuke said, gesturing to the chair he'd just vacated. "So has Dean talked to you yet?"

Sam glanced at his brother, who was pouring himself a cup of coffee as if he'd been here all his life, and simply shook his head, letting his look of confusions speak for him.

"I figured I'd let you guys do it," Dean explained as he came back over and slid a cup to Sam. "Y'know, before we figure out what we're gonna do next."

XXX

"You're not serious."

Sam said it quietly, looking around at Yusuke, Kuwabara, Genkai, Yukina, and finally, Hiei. When they all looked back at him without a word, he turned frantic eyes to Dean, who tried to send him a silent "Don't panic" message. Apparently, though, he didn't succeed, because when Sam spoke again, his voice had risen and his voice was oddly tight, as if his throat were constricted. "I'm not…I can't move that fast! I've _never_ been able to move that fast! I…" His words trailed off then, and he simply sat there looking desperate.

The last hour and a half had been spent catching Sam up. The conversation had been punctuated often by Sam's questions, cumulating in this last frightened inquiry. Outside, the sky was lightening and the stars were quickly fading. Dean could hardly believe that it had only been a day since their plane had landed in Japan—all he wanted to do was go to sleep for a year and forget the insanity he had been plunged into.

"I know you don't want to believe it, but it's true, and the sooner you accept it the sooner you can do something about it," Yusuke said, his gentle tone a contrast to the roughness of his words. "That's what we were talking about with your brother while you were out.

"Yeah? Come up with anything?" Sam asked, sounding sulky but determined not to act like a child.

"No—" Dean began, but Yusuke cut him off.

"We think we may have figured something out." He ignored Dean's look and focused instead on Sam. "See, we have this guy stationed in California right now, on a job. He's our resident smarty, and I think that he may be able to help find out what's going on."

"So you want us to go to California and meet him?" Dean asked, surprised at how much he liked the idea. But at least California was familiar territory, unlike this place where the entire world suddenly seemed turned upside down.

"Exactly. But what we can't decide is _when_. I think we should talk to Koenma about it first, see if he had any ideas. But he's been busy lately, and when I tried to contact him—a bit before you woke up, Sam—he couldn't see us. And Hiei says we can't afford to wait, but _I_ think that he's think of something besides…"

"_Detective_."

"Well, anyway, that's the general gist of our situation," Yusuke finished, glancing at Hiei with a barely noticeable smirk.

"Ah. Well, while you guys are talking about that…can I see you?"

Sam shrugged, and got up to follow Dean into the hallway as the others gathered again and picked up the debate where they'd left off. Once they were outside the room, Dean turned to Sam and said abruptly, "Did you dream?"

Sam looked puzzled for a moment, as if he had been expecting something else. "What do you mean?"

"Sam, you know what I mean. Not three hours ago I was holding you down to your bed while you nearly killed yourself thrashing around. I know what your nightmares look like, Sam, and you were definitely having one. But this time it was worse. I thought you were dying, man, and so did all those other people in there. So I just want to know if it was the usual stuff or…something else."

Sam leaned carefully against the wall, facing his brother, and didn't say anything.

"Sam?"

"…I don't remember."

"What?"

"I don't remember. I can't remember a thing from the time I passed out."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Well, that's…weird. That ever happened before."

"No, never. But it's probably nothing to worry about."

"Yeah…maybe you're right." But both of them were unconvinced, and Dean looked like he very much wanted to say something else, but right then Kuwabara popped his head out of the kitchen.

"Hey, guys, we think we may have a solution, if you want to hear it."

After he'd ducked out, the two stared at each other for a minute, then Dean shrugged and headed back to the kitchen.

The group had separated again, and now only Genkai and Yukina sat at the table. Yusuke was sitting on the counter, legs hanging, with Kuwabara leaning next to him. Hiei was perched on the windowsill, staring out at the sunrise, looking almost normal. Dean was surprised at the gentle, almost-happy look on his face, but he immediately placed his guard up again, determined not to let it down at any point when around Hiei, even if he found himself starting to trust the others, if reluctantly.

"Okay, so here's the deal: we think we've found a way that you can leave for the States today, tonight at the latest," Yusuke said, jumping straight in. "Now, _please_ hear me out before you say anything—"

"Uh-oh."

"No, Dean, not 'uh-oh,' just…it is what it is, okay? So, anyways, we decided that you should leave for California as soon as possible, and go to meet the guy we told you about. And one of us will go with you, obviously, but the rest should stay behind for now, to try and get hold of Koenma and take care of things on this end. We'll fly out to meet you within a few days, though."

"And who is it that'll come with us?" Dean asked, with the nagging suspicion that he already knew the answer, but needing to have the worst confirmed.

Yusuke looked away uncomfortably. "Well…we were thinking Hiei should…"

"No. Forget it."

Yusuke sighed and rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Come _on_, man! Will you please just _try_ and get over this bigotry toward demons…for now, at least?"

"Oh, yeah, because they're all such happy little guys who don't do anything wrong. Next you'll be feeding me the old 'they're just misunderstood' line…"

"_Dean!"_ The sudden venom in Yusuke's voice was startling. "Will you just _trust_ us? I know Hiei hurt your brother, but we _explained_ about that! And I know that other demons have hurt your family—a lot—but Hiei isn't like that, I swear! He's saved _at least_ as many lives as you have, and he doesn't deserve to be treated that way. So _get over it_, already."

Dean felt the beginnings of shame, but he suppressed it as best he could. "That's easy enough to _say_. But trying to get over more than twenty years of suffering at the hands everything hell can throw at a single human being _takes_ a while. It can't be done in a day."

"I know, but…listen, I'm sorry for jumping on you like that. But you have to understand. Hiei is my _friend_. The way he's glaring at me right now may not give that impression, but it's the truth even though he'll never come out and say it no matter how long we're together. And I don't want to listen to you bad-mouth him anymore. Can't you at least _try_?" When Dean remained silent, looking carefully at the wall just to the left of Yusuke's shoulder, Yusuke sighed and said, "Listen, I'm not going to force you to do anything. I could, but…you deserve to be able to make your own decisions. So…why don't you two go and…talk this out? We'll be here whenever you make your decision."

XXX

"We should go."

"Sam, you can't be serious! He's a _demon_, for God's sake!"

"I know, but…Dean, if this guy can really help me figure out what the hell I am, if he can give me—_us_—answers, then…I want to go. And…I don't know, but he _seems_ trustworthy enough. I don't think he'll hurt us."

"He already has."

"But like Yusuke said, there was an explanation for that. Dean, I know you'll never forgive him for hurting me, but—"

"Aw, come on, man, don't turn this into a chick-flick thing…"

"It's not chick-flick, it's just you. But you've got to set that aside, and just _think_. They're right, Dean, I'm dangerous like this. And I'd rather die than hurt you by accident. It's the last thing I want. If we can prevent that, then shouldn't we take the chance?"

Silence.

"Dean, please…I won't go if you don't, but…God, I want to _know_! I _need_ to know. Please?"

XXX

"Well? What's the verdict?"

"Well, I honestly can't believe I'm saying this, but—count us in."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Well, _that_ chapter certainly turned out longer than I'd planned…sorry it took so long! I hope it was worth the wait. Review, please!

- - - - - - - - - -

**"Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education; they grow there, firm as weeds among rocks." –Charlotte Bronte**

**"Everyone is a prisoner of his own experience. No one can eliminate prejudices--just recognize them." –Edward R. Murrow**


	6. Chapter 5: This Is Really Weird

- - - - - - - - - -

Sam's first thought when he opened his eyes was, _When did I fall asleep?_ He sat up slowly, looking over at Dean, who was snoring quietly on the other side of the room, and then got to his feet and headed directly to the bedroom door, with the idea of finding Yusuke and the others.

The scent of food hit like a brick wall as soon as he stepped into the hall, and realized with a growl of his stomach that he hadn't eaten in almost two days. He followed the smell eagerly and found everyone in the kitchen. Kuwabara and Yusuke were at the table, which was covered in food, deep in discussion, while Yukina and Genkai stood at the stove, and Hiei was nowhere to be found.

"Morning," Yusuke greeted, motioning for Sam to sit down. "You hungry?" He didn't wait for a reply, but rather grabbed a plate and began to pile food onto it. As soon as Sam pulled up a chair, he found himself facing a massive heap that could fill him up ten times over. Sam considered mentioning the size of it, but when his stomach made itself known again, he decided that maybe he _could_ finish it off.

"Coffee?" Kuwabara asked. "Dean still asleep?"

"Mm-hmm," Sam replied to both questions, his mouth too full to actually form a full sentence. When Kuwabara brought him a cup, he somehow managed to down a mouthful of what Dean called Black Liquid Hope without pausing in shoving food into his mouth.

"Jeez, would a napkin slow you down at all?" Genkai asked, coming over to shove one at him. Sam took the hint and tried to slow down a little, but within five seconds he was back to eating at hyper speed.

_Although, that may not be just a figure of speech anymore…_ Sam thought, his stomach churning involuntarily. He faltered for a moment, but his appetite managed to overcome even the current situation, and soon he began stuffing himself with fervor again.

A few minutes later, once Sam had made a sizeable dent in the plate's contents and he had managed to slow to something resembling normal speed, he asked casually, "Where's Hiei?"

If anyone was surprised at him addressing Hiei as if he were human, they didn't comment. Instead, Yusuke shrugged and said, "I dunno. We don't keep tabs on him. He'll leave for days at a time and then just show up when he feels like it. Dunno where he goes. Not sure I _want_ to…"

"But isn't he going with us to California?"

"Yes."

"Well, what if he doesn't come back today?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Yukina said, giggling. "He knows when you guys leave. He'll be here."

"What makes you so sure?" Sam asked.

"Oh, trust me—he will." Yukina giggled again, and Sam watched, mystified, as she went to add to the plates on the table.

"Uh…okay…so tell me about this guy we're going to meet," Sam said, changing the subject.

Yusuke grinned. "Now _that_ is an inexhaustible subject. Well, his name is Kurama—to us, anyway—but to his mother and the people at his school he's Suuichi Minamono."

"Why?"

"Can't tell you that."

"You guys really like your secrets, huh?"

"No, not really, actually, but I won't give information that isn't mine to give. Anyway, Kurama is probably the nicest guy you'll ever meet—and the most annoyingly polite—and as I said, he's a genius."

"So why is he in California and not here?" Sam asked.

"He got sent to this college in Sunnydale—tiny, tiny town a few hours from L.A.—on an assignment for Koenma, about a month ago. No telling when he's coming back. We all really miss him, but hey, part of the job, right?"

Sam sighed heavily and poked at his food with his fork, his appetite fading suddenly. "Yeah…I think I know what you mean."

XXX

Dean's mind started running even before he was fully awake. His first thought was, _I _really_ hope that was all a dream…_ Then he opened his eyes, and the second he saw the ceiling design that was quite unlike any ceiling design in California or basically anywhere outside Japan or Korea or China or one of those places, he sighed and knew that all the craziness had actually taken place.

After lying there for a while, turning it all over in his mind, he rolled over on his side and saw that Sam wasn't in his bed.

When he skidded into the kitchen five minutes later, clothes thrown on haphazardly, hair sticking up all over the place, it was to find Sam sitting at the table with Yusuke, Kuwabara, Genkai and Yukina, an almost-empty plate in front of him. He looked up instantly, though, at the sound of Dean's steps, and smiled. "Hey. Food's still warm if you want anything."

Dean grunted in reply and went to grab a plate. "How long you been up?"

"About an hour. We've been making plans."

"Huh. It feel so nice to be included. Hey, how's Hiei getting to California?"

"What do you mean?" Yusuke asked. "He's going the same way you two are, obviously."

"Really? He doesn't seem to be the airplane type of…person."

"Well, that's fine, 'cause you're not taking a plane."

"Oh…wait…what?"

XXX

Dean stared with his mouth open at the ten-foot portal in front of him. "I don't believe this."

"That…is _incredible_," Sam said in awe, taking a small step forward and peering at the shimmering, enormous thing.

Yusuke, who was standing a little bit behind them, shrugged. "It'll get you to Point B."

"So do you pull up gigantic portals in your backyard using only the power of your mind on a daily basis?" Sam asked with a determined sort of casualty.

"Not often, actually. We don't need it unless for some reason Koenma needs to meet with us face to face. Plus people might notice if we use it too much, and that would be just…bad."

"Yeah, I can see why…"

"Excuse me," Dean broke in suddenly. "We're not actually using this thing, are we? You were just kidding about that…right?" When Yusuke just stared at him, Dean closed his eyes and groaned. "Damn…"

XXX

Hiei wandered back to the temple around one in the afternoon without saying a word to anyone. But his silence seemed…different, somehow. He seemed tense—excited, if it was possible for him to _be_ excited. He wouldn't speak, even to his sister, but that was okay, because after Yukina's first attempt, no one had tried talking to him.

But they didn't seem upset—no, on the contrary, they all seemed profoundly happy about _something_. Yusuke walked around smirking in a satisfied sort of way, and every once in a while Kuwabara would murmur something in Japanese that would cause Yusuke to laugh loudly while Hiei scowled at them without a word. Even grumpy Genkai seemed happier than usual, though her biting sarcasm was undiminished.

Meanwhile, Dean was having a massive freak-out and trying to hide it—and failing miserably—while Sam was constantly worrying about his alleged "new ability." He had never wanted to disbelieve anything so badly, but the fact was, there _had_ been a lot of things happening to him lately, so really, why had he even pretended to think it would all stop with the nightmares and—whatever those other things were? He really had no choice but to believe it, and _that_ meant that he now had to be constantly on his guard, lest he get out of control and hurt someone.

All in all, it was a very irritably group that proceeded to the portal late in the afternoon. No one said anything at all as Hiei raised his hand and opened the portal. Once it appeared, Hiei took a step back and made a gesture that clearly indicated that one of them should go first.

The brothers exchanged a look, then Sam sighed, threw back his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped forward to face whatever was coming next.

XXX

"Dude…that…was so wrong."

"Aw, come on, it wasn't that bad," Sam chuckled as he appeared through the portal next to Dean.

"Are you kidding? Felt like I was gonna explode into a jillion little pieces."

"Well, you should get used to it, because this may not be the last time you have to use one of those," the demon, Hiei, said, appearing beside them and sealing the portal up as he spoke. "Come."

"Where are we?" Dean asked, ignoring the order.

"You don't recognize your own country, then?" Hiei snapped, already walking away.

Sam snorted, but when Dean looked at him his face was carefully blank, though his eyes sparkled with carefully-concealed amusement. Shaking his head, Dean followed Hiei, muttering under his breath. "Well, where are we _going_, then?" he demanded as he caught up to Hiei, who was setting a quick pace, walking as if he knew exactly where he was going.

"The University of Sunnydale, California. It isn't a long walk—I know humans aren't usually good with those," Hiei added mockingly.

"Okay, little man, this whole toleration thing has to go both ways or it won't work at all. So just don't bait me and I won't kill you in your sleep."

"Don't do me any favors," Hiei said flatly. "I'm sticking with you two because I have to, but I don't have to like being around you. I'll deal with you, but I am _not_ your friend. So you'll just have to deal with being 'baited' whether you like it or not."

Dean scowled as he heard Sam laughing a few feet behind, unable to contain it any longer.

XXX

U.C. Sunnydale was rather quiet today. With midterms over and spring break almost there, few people had seen fit to stick around. Of course, some were still there, but not many, and the school was as quiet as the grave.

"Are you sure this is where we're supposed to be?" Dean asked as he, Sam and Hiei entered the courtyard.

Hiei just motioned for them to follow without answering, and Dean and Sam really had no choice but to follow.

"Have you ever been here before?" Sam asked, half-jogging to keep up with the demon.

"No."

"Well, then, do you know where you're going?"

"Yes."

"Uh…how?"

"I know, all right? Hurry up."

"What _is_ it with him?" Dean asked quietly to Sam.

Sam shrugged. "He's in a hurry."

"That's not what I meant, geek. Why is he being civil to _you_ and not me?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Because you hate him."

"Well, yeah, but…so do you!" When Sam looked away uncomfortably, Dean's brow wrinkled. "Don't you?"

"Well…I…"

"Sam?"

"Look, man, can't we talk about this later? Y'know, when he's _not_ around?"

Dean shrugged, though he looked slightly annoyed. "Whatever."

Sam looked ready to pursue the subject despite his own words, but just as he started to speak they entered the main building and Hiei stopped for a moment before turning sharply to the left and continuing on.

"What, is he _smelling_ his way?" Dean asked, disgruntled. Sam gave him a stern look and followed after Hiei. Dean glared at his brother's back but had no choice but to tag along. Hiei led them down a couple of hallways, finally stopping at a set of double doors.

"He's in there," the small demon said quietly. Looking at him, Dean could have sworn that he was suddenly several shades paler than before. His voice shook ever so slightly, and he seemed to be having actual trouble holding on to his stoicism. Determined to see what could cause this kind of reaction in a demon, Dean stepped up next to him and looked into the room.

He deduced immediately that it was the dining hall, crammed as it was with tables and benches. But where there would normally have been a hundred-some students, there were only twenty or so people scattered at tables across the hall. The group nearest the door was made up of three people—a girl with long blond hair, a redheaded girl with short hair, and another redhead with much longer hair. The blond was sitting opposite the other two, and so noticed the three in the doorway first.

Frowning slightly, she leaned over and said something to her friends, who looked too.

The one with the shorter hair didn't seem to recognize any of them, but the other redhead's mouth dropped open, and he stared straight at Hiei as if Dean and Sam didn't exist. For an agonizing amount of time, there was no sound or movement.

Just when Dean felt that he would have to speak or explode, the silence was broken by a shriek from the redhead. "_Hiei?"_

Dean turned to look at Hiei, just as the demon dashed into the hall—at normal, human speed, but still very quick. The redhead opened his arms once Hiei was within reach and lifted him straight off the ground in a hug. Dean waited for the inevitable death or serious injury of the redhead, but it never came. Instead, Hiei allowed the hug—he _returned _it.

And if _that_ was shocking, Dean practically experienced a coronary when the redhead suddenly pulled Hiei's head down and planted a kiss directly on his lips.

"Oh, my _God_!"

XXX

"So…did _you_ know Kurama was gay?" Willow asked Tara lightly.

"No clue," Tara replied, watching Kurama with interest. "Although we really should have, now that I think of it, but…hey, who're they?"

Willow shrugged as she looked at the two guys who were staring with popping eyes at Hiei and Kurama. "Come on, let's go find out," she said, pushing back her chair and standing up.

Kurama and the spiky-haired young man broke apart as Willow and Tara headed toward them. The other guy seemed suddenly aware of the audience, and he pushed Kurama gently away, keeping a hand on his shoulder. But Kurama would apparently have none of it, and slung an arm around his boyfriend to pull him close again.

"Um…hi," Tara said once they were within range.

Kurama turned quickly, arm still wrapped firmly around the other one. He was grinning like a fiend and suddenly looked years younger and many times happier. "Oh! Hey, guys! Sorry, I—erm—forgot…this is Hiei. Hiei, I'd like you to met Willow Rosenberg and Tara McClay."

"Hi…nice to meet you," Tara said, Willow echoing her. They waited for Hiei to bring the other two forward, but Hiei didn't even say anything in reply to the introductions.

"Ahem…Hiei?" Kurama prompted gently, and Hiei sighed."

"It's nice to meet you, too." He said it grudgingly and without smiling, but his eyes were very different from his face, and Tara knew somehow that he was actually very happy.

XXX

"So…Hiei is…in a relationship. That is just…"

"_Weird_," Sam said, finishing his brother's sentence. "And I guess that's…Kurama…as well as Hiei's…relationship."

"So Hiei is in a relationship…_and_ gay?"

"…Looks like it."

"That is just…"

"_Weird_."

As Dean started to say something else, the redheaded guy looked to the doorway and cleared his throat pointedly, and seemed to give Hiei a silent hint. Hiei picked it up quickly and motioned for Dean and Sam to come forward.

"You've probably guessed that this is Kurama. Kura, this is Dean and that's Sam."

"You two are brothers?" Kurama asked as he reached out to shake Sam's hand, then Dean's.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Sam asked in surprise. "People can't usually tell."

Kurama shrugged. "You have a…what's the word? Vibe. You have a brothers' vibe."

"Wow, we're vibing you? Cool…" Dean smirked.

"Who's older?"

Dean looked at the girl Kurama had introduced as Tara, and felt a smile spread across his face. "That'd be me. Older, wiser, and, well, let's face it, better looking."

"Um…okay…well…it's nice to meet you."

"What are you doing here, Hiei?" Kurama asked, dragging Hiei over to sit. He added something in Japanese that made Hiei slap him gently over the head and caused Sam to blush deeply. "What'd he say?" Dean muttered as they went over to join the others.

"Oh, he just wanted to know why we're here, too," Sam said quickly.

"Uh-huh. And?"

"He also thinks we're…well…uh…oh, look, a chair!"

That was weird…and…unresponsive… 

Kurama and Hiei were deep in Japanese conversation by the time Dean sat down, while Sam, Willow and Tara looked on, trying to seem as if they knew what was going on.

It was hard to say how long the foreign conversation would have lasted if Willow's pager hadn't gone off. "Tara, Giles needs us ASAP. Uh, work. Research and whatnot."

"Oh…okay. I guess we have to go then," Tara said, looking only slightly disappointed. "It was really nice meeting you. Hope to see you again soon. Bye, Kurama!"

Dean watched the two run off with a lopsided grin on his face. "What nice, nice girls…"

Kurama looked from the retreating figures to Dean's face. "You do know they're together, don't you?"

Dean's smile grew for a moment before fading entirely. "What?"

"They're together. You know, in love. With each other."

"…What?"

"They're gay, Dean," Sam said, grinning again at the look on Dean's face.

The news having finally sunken in upon the second repeat, Dean groaned and lowered his head to the table. "First my baby gets taken away and now this. I _cannot_ win…"

"Your baby?" Kurama asked.

"His car," Sam explained. "He had to leave it at the airport and he's pining."

"You make it sound stupid, but she's probably missing me too."

"Dean, cares should not have pronouns. And the Impala's _fine_."

"Easy for you to say…" Dean said in long-suffering tones.

Kurama looked from one Winchester to the other and smiled slightly. "Americans are…very strange. All right, so Hiei managed to lay down the basics for me within the last two and a half minutes, but now that the other two are gone I can hear the whole story. He says you know our story, and that you, Sam, need my help, but that's all I know. If you don't mind I'd like to hear the rest now…"

XXX

Rupert Giles was a _very_ British man, with a very British apartment—if apartments could be British. However, as stodgy and European as he could be, like all people, he had a few odd interests.

"Fascinating…"

Interests such as very ugly, slimy, disgusting, demonic, but "fascinating" creatures.

"What's fascinating?" Willow asked as she walked into the apartment, Tara on her heels.

Rupert—known only as Giles in most circles, lest the ozone layer dissolve and the earth implode—looked up from the books spread out over his kitchen table. "Willow, Tara. Good. There's tea on the stove."

"You act as if we had a choice. What's up?"

"The usual. Demons, monsters, et cetera."

Tara, who had gone over to pour herself tea, spoke up. "I'm needing more here."

"Hey, where's Buffy?" Willow asked suddenly before Giles could answer.

"She and Spike are off…somewhere. I've paged her, but there's no telling with that girl. And as for why I called you, I need you to patrol with Buffy tonight. And Xander, too, if I can reach him, though I really don't know what he could do to help."

"Huh. Okay. We can probably find time for that. Any special reason?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Giles said, gesturing to his books. "According to all of these, there's a demon that lives under Sunnydale. It's nameless, known only by drawings, as far as I can tell, but I do know that it comes to the surface every fifty years, and according to my charts it's coming up tonight."

"Interesting. Is it evil?" Tara asked.

"Obviously. It's a soul-collector. Or if it doesn't collect them it still takes them out of bodies. I don't know what it does with them, but the point is, if it comes out tonight it must be killed before it gets what it wants."

"Well, at least we can say it's not gonna be a dull night," Willow said, shrugging. "So is that it?"

"Yes, that's why I called. I hope I didn't interrupt anything?"

"Oh, yeah, you did. Our psych professor was running around campus in a skirt and no shirt and my modern poetry professor was in a Speedo."

"Rather creepy, considering that they're both extremely old men."

"Yeah, I'm never going to either of those classes again…no, actually, we were just hanging out with this new exchange student from Japan—really interesting guy—but by the time you called someone who actually spoke Japanese joined us so Tara and I became sort of pointless. But we have a psych midterm deal in half an hour, so we have to go soon."

"Ah, yes, of course. Go do your midterm, whatever that is. I'll keep paging Buffy and Xander."

"Okay, see ya tonight then."

"It's a date."

"Okay, I'm _very_ uncomfortable with you saying that."

"Right. My apologies. I'll see you both tonight."

XXX

Kurama was silent for a long time after hearing the whole story. His face was unreadable—the Winchesters would soon figure out that he could mask his thoughts as well as Hiei or better when he wanted to—but his fingers, tapping unceasingly on the wooden tabletop, betrayed his agitation.

"This is…very strange," he said finally.

"Gee, you're smart. Why don't you and Sam here form a club?" Dean said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Hiei growled low in his throat, but Kurama only smiled. "Maybe we should."

The ease with which he took the implied insult threw Dean, and if he had been thinking clearly he might have realized that this was Kurama's intent. As it was, he just looked at the other man in bewilderment.

"You don't know what's going on, then?" Sam asked, much more politely than his brother, although his insides were jumping all over the place as they had been for days.

"I'm afraid not. But then, no one could be expected to pull a solution to such a puzzle out of the air."

"Can't you help us at all?" Dean asked.

"You still haven't told me what you need my help _with_," Kurama replied. "What is it you want to know?"

"How to make it go away," Dean replied instantly.

"Or at least how to control it," Sam added. "And _why_ it's happening. I'd like to know that most of all."

"And why did you come to me? Don't be mistaken, I'm thrilled to see Hiei and since you're what brought him here I'm thrilled about that too, but why not just go to Koenma or someone else with thousands of books on the subject of strange abilities?"

Hiei was the one who answered that question, in Japanese, and Kurama nodded. "Well, I'm not sure what I can do at the moment, but if you give me time—"

"We may not have much of that," Dean said.

"Sure," Sam answered at the same time. "We'll find a motel."

"But—"

"We'll find a motel," Sam repeated firmly, this time speaking directly to Dean. "We know you're here for a reason, and that it's important, and we don't want to keep you from it. But…"

"I understand. You don't have unlimited time to spend here. Here, call this number—" He scribbled something on a sheet from his notebook and slid it across the table to Dean. "—tomorrow evening, and we'll talk."

Dean tore the piece of paper with Kurama's number on it in half, snatched Kurama's pencil off the table, wrote on one half, and tossed it and the pencil back. "My number. Just in case."

Kurama pocketed the paper and smiled in that slightly disconcerting—but still oddly pleasant—way.

XXX

"Home sweet home," Sam said with a sigh as he stepped into the third-rate motel room where he and Dean would be staying—check-out date, indefinite.

Dean grunted and went to throw his stuff on one of the beds without answering.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked cautiously, reading his brother's silence like a book.

"You're an idiot," Dean snapped, almost before Sam got all the words out.

"What? Why?" Sam asked in confusion.

"'What? Why?'" Dean mocked. "Those are _demons_, Sam!"

"Huh? But Kurama—"

"Is about a hundred times older than he looks."

"How d'you figure _that_?"

"Oh, come on, Sam! He only looks, like, twenty years old, but the eyes tell all and his are _old_! And plus he seems geekier than you so he _can't_ be all human."

"So you don't know for sure."

"Trust me. I've seen enough demons to know that he is one. You should have seen it too, but under the circumstances I get why you didn't. That's not the point, anyway."

"Well, then, what is the point, Dean?"

"We can't trust them!" Dean said angrily, now throwing clothes into drawers at random.

"Says the guy who gave them his cell number!"

"Also not the point. You're too friendly with them. Especially Hiei."

"God, could you have any more of a superiority complex?" Sam said, finally losing his temper. "They're trying to _help_ me! _Both_ of them! I know you'd rather be out fighting instead of sticking around this place with me, but no one's making you stay."

"_Hey_. Don't eve go there, Sammy. I'm not the one who abandons people, remember?"

Dean regretted the words the moment they were out, but there was no taking them back. Sam stared at him for a long, terrible minute, his hand clenching and unclenching as if he longed to hit his brother. Dean almost wished he would.

Then Sam turned toward the door and said quietly, "I'll being back food for dinner," and was gone.

XXX

"And now here we are, back at my oh-so-lovely rented apartment, paid for courtesy of the loon that sent me here."

Hiei squeezed Kurama's hand and smiled a little. "Wow. This town is really…boring."

"Seems to be, yes." Hiei yelped in surprise when Kurama suddenly pulled him closer and enveloped him in a hug. "But you're here now, so things are bound to liven up. Hey, have I told you I love you since you got here?"

"Twice. But I'm never above hearing it."

Kurama chuckled and leaned over for a kiss. "I love you."

"Same here. So should we go inside or walk some more?"

"I'm up for anything as long as you do it with me."

"Sap. Let's walk, then—I'm all wound up."

Kurama laughed aloud at this. "I never thought I'd hear you say 'all wound up.'"

"Well, not _all_ the changes you brought have been good."

"And you're absolutely certain you don't want to add to that?"

"…Just most of them?"

"Very good."

"The two of us are absolutely sickening, you know."

"Yes, we are. C'mon, let's go."

XXX

"God, I love this show."

"It's nothing but a cooking show with two fat ladies, Wil," Alexander "Xander" Harris said, grinning.

"But they are _hilarious_ far ladies," Tara said.

"Oh, look, the little one's in a side car!" Buffy Summers giggled.

"Hey, aren't we supposed to be meeting Giles?" Tara asked suddenly.

"Oh, the sun's barely gone down, he'll wait. I just want to finish this ep—"

_THUD_. "WILLOW!"

Willow, Xander, Buffy and Tara all jumped to their feet at the same time, staring at the door, which was being pounded on rather loudly.

"WILLOW!" _THUD, THUD, THUD!_ The frantic edge to the shouts was enough to send Willow running for the door.

"WIL—"

The shout was cut off as Willow pulled the door open, and they all beheld Kurama standing in the dorm-building hallway, looking utterly terrified and completely unhinged. He held a sleeping Hiei in his arms, and he seemed to be holding on incredibly tight.

As soon as he saw Willow, Kurama looked up at the ceiling and said something that sounded very prayer-like in Japanese. Then he went on to repeat it in English: "Thank all the gods…I need your help."

"Kurama, what—?"

"Please, Willow, I know we just met and everything, but I have no on else to go to—"

"Kurama, _what's wrong_?" Willow asked, keeping her voice calm and reasonable in an attempt to affect to Kurama.

"Hiei. He—we were walking and we were attacked and he won't wake up."

Willow looked down at the still form in Kurama's arms and noticed for the first time that Hiei looked…wrong, somehow. Much paler than he should have—white, actually. He had no color at all below his hairline. And he was far to still—not even a twitch. He looked…

"Here, lay him down on my bed. Kurama…"

"Don't. He's still alive," Kurama said as he went past Tara, Buffy and Xander, who were still staring at him, two trying to figure out who he was, one merely surprised, and laid Hiei gently down on the bed. "You see, I failed to clarify what it was that attacked us." He seemed to be trying to stay away from sheer panic, but his voice still seemed to be on the brink of hysteria. "It wasn't human, it was a demon."

After a moment of silence, Xander spoke up. "Okay, everyone here did just hear him state very calmly that he and his friend were attacked by a demon, right?"

"Boyfriend. Hiei is his boyfriend," Tara corrected. "And yes, I heard him. What about you, Buffy?"

"YES! SHE HEARD ME! EVERYONE IN THIS DAMN ROOM HEARD ME SAY WE WERE ATTACKED BY A DEMON! NOW CAN WE PLEASE CONCENTRATE ON GETTING MY LOVER'S SOUL BACK INTO HIS BODY?" Kurama shouted, wincing as his voice echoed back at him and he realized how loud he was. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just…I've never been as scared or as mad or as…_nauseous_…as I feel right now…"

"Wait, did you mention a soul?"

"Yes. I killed the demon that attacked us, but first it ripped his soul out and I need you to help me put it back."

"Okay, you do know how crazy you sound, right?"

"Don't play games with me, Rosenberg."

"Well, what makes you think I can help, anyway?"

"Because I know what you are!"

"W-what?"

"Willow, I know that you're a witch and that Tara's a witch and that the girl standing over there is Buffy and that she's a vampire slayer and that Xander does…nothing…but he's your best friend and he helps you guys fight demons and you all should find these kinds of things normal and I know I do but it's not usually the love of my life that gets the short, crappy end of the stick in these things and this has got to be the longest sentence in the world but damn it, I need your help and I'm waiting for your answer!"

"But…how…?"

"Please, Willow, not now! I promise I'll explain, I do, but _please_, help Hiei before he runs out of time!"

Buffy spoke up then. "Wil, I don't like this. We have no idea who he is. He could be dangerous. And—"

But Kurama could see that Willow wasn't listening. She was staring at him and him only, sizing him up.

"Okay," she said softly. "Okay, I'll help you."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, so was that the crappiest chapter ever? I honestly can't tell! It seemed…HORRIBLE to me. Or most of it anyway. I just couldn't get the words the way I wanted them! But I guess it'll have to do, because I tried as hard as I could and if it still sucks there's nothing I can do about it. I must have feedback! Review, please!

- - - - - - - - - -

"**It is well, when one is judging…to remember that he is judging you with the same godlike and superior impartiality." –Arnold Bennet**

"**Everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects." –Will Rogers**


	7. Chapter 6: Nope, Can't Do It, Not Today

Anonymous / Mediaminer Reviewer(s):

**nil**: Thanks for your review! And I'm glad it hasn't been confusing so far, but beware…this chapter seemed a little muddled to me, so it _might_ confuse. Maybe. I am completely incapable of judging my own work anymore—I am losing my mind. But whatever, I'll just let you decide.

**graywinter**: I want you to know that I honestly want to thank you for critiquing me. I like to get criticism if it's constructive—flames make me laugh and all, but really, once you get past the hilarity they're pretty much a waste of time to write or to read—and this was. Constructive, that is, not a waste.

But believe it or not, the fact that Kurama was out of character in the last chapter _was_ intentional—I meant to show that even Kurama gets shaken up by some things, and that he loves Hiei so much that he's one of the few things that _does_ deserve the full-on panic attack. Of course, he only fell for Hiei recently—in my mind, anyway, and this is my fanfic, so what's true in my mind will be true in my fanfic—so any emotional display will be rather new for him.

Don't worry, though, mostly he'll stay the calm, cool, collected Kurama we all know and love…mostly.

- - - - - - - - - -

As she approached the still figure on the bed, Willow tried to clear her mind. There was no way she could do this with her thoughts elsewhere—things could take a disastrous turn if she tried. But it was nearly impossible _not_ to dwell on her questions…

_Get ahold of yourself! There will be plenty of time to find out later!_ Willow told herself firmly as she made her way to the closest door and ducked inside. Feeling along the shelf overhead, she drew down a large, round, hard ball of faintly glowing marble. "Ha! I knew I still had it…"

"Is that an Orb of Thessulah?" **1** Kurama asked with interest that Willow could tell would have been greater somewhere else, under better circumstances.

"Yes," Willow replied, not permitting herself to wonder how he'd known. "I have to use it to channel the soul. It's not hard, as long as no one interferes. There's no telling what would happen then. Don't worry, though—this isn't the first time I've used one of these." She smiled reassuringly at Kurama as she went and sat down cross-legged on the floor, setting the Orb down on the floor in front of her. "Plus, the last time I did this I was bleeding from the head, so this is comparatively simple…"

XXX

Kurama watched with mixed feelings as Willow began her spell. He was fascinated with the process of recovering Hiei's soul, but at the same time he could hardly believe that he had brought his love to a not-yet-twenty-one-year-old witch that he'd only met yesterday to be healed. He had no idea how powerful or skilled Willow was, or even if he could trust her.

And then there was Koenma's reaction when he—inevitably—found out about this. If Kurama had come with a banner and a marching band to announce himself he could not have blown his cover more effectively than he had in the last five minutes. Koenma was not going to be happy with him. And while Kurama would willingly make the same decision a thousand more times if it meant the difference of life or death for Hiei, that didn't make the situation or thought of Koenma's impending anger any better.

And if all these thoughts weren't enough, Koenma also had to deal with this blinding, building rage. Pictures from the last half-hour kept flashing through his mind. A large, ugly, high-class** 2** youkai **3** heading for him and Hiei, holding a long, wooden staff with an oddly-shaped top. The demon chanting in some weird, highly annoying language that was not any human or demonic language that Kurama had ever heard. The staff glowing ominously. And Hiei…Hiei collapsing to the ground beside him, an empty, soulless shell.

Kurama saw himself kill the evil creature all over again, remembering that it should have been very difficult but was just then more akin to slaying a D-class **4** youkai that was bound hand and foot. He had turned his attention to Hiei then, and now…here he was.

Willow had finished her chanting during Kurama's short trip down memory lane, and now she picked up the Orb and studied it carefully. "He's in there," she announced after a moment. Kurama barely had time to register the oddity of her referring to Hiei's soul as a "he" before she closed her eyes and began the next stage of her spell.

Something stirred in Kurama's mind then, a strange feeling of foreboding, but he was far too concerned with what was going on to pay attention. He brushed it aside instead and watched Willow intently.

He had just noticed that she hadn't made any visible preparations for this, aside from getting the Orb of Thessulah. He had always thought witches needed things—herbs, candles, gems—to work magic, and judging from the number of such odd things around the dorm room, most witches did. But Willow used nothing now.

Power… 

Willow apparently had a lot of it.

And that could be good…or it could be very, very bad.

The nervous feeling brushed his thoughts again, more persistent this time, as the magic began to come together and Willow delved into Hiei's body with her power.

This time, Kurama understood the warning.

"_No!"_

The cry tore from him as he leapt forward—too slowly. As his hand touched her, Willow cried out in pain and stiffened, and Kurama felt black, evil energy unleashing itself to surround her. Almost instantly, her life force began to drain. In less than a moment, it would be gone—Willow would be dead, and it would be _his_ fault.

The draining halted even as he thought it, and Kurama stared in amazement at Willow. The girl was somehow fighting that which very few could fight—but it was obvious that she couldn't hold up for long. Already her face was contorted into a grimace of pain, her muscles knotted and rigid with concentration. She was exhausting her store of energy quickly, trying to complete the spell and fight the attacking force at the same time.

A peculiar feeling overcame Kurama then. He didn't notice the uproar around them—Tara asking over and over what was wrong, Xander trying to calm her, and Buffy demanding that Kurama do something—he only knew that he suddenly had a feeling that if Willow were lost, only bad things could happen. And before he really thought about it he was leaping forward and clamping his hand down on the unconscious, unmoving Hiei's shoulder, tapping into his own ki **5** as easily as he breathed.

He had never done this before—had never needed to because nothing like this had ever happened—not by mistake—but he thought he had a pretty good idea of how it worked. He let everything—the room, the shocked and terrified humans in it—anything that was not Willow, himself, Hiei, or this dark, malevolent force—fall away, and then he manipulated his ki until it brimmed with calm and peace, and let it well up and flow directly into Hiei.

The dark force never tried to oppose him, never even made an attempt to resist him—as Kurama had known it would, it knew him for who he was and what he meant to Hiei, and it trusted him. From the moment Kurama's ki began to seep into Hiei, he knew he was going to win. In moments, the flow began to ebb, and Willow was soon free.

It seemed to be the easiest thing in the world.

Even after Willow was left alone, Kurama kept up what he was doing, determined to make sure that she remained safe. He kept it up right up until Willow drew in a breath, withdrew her hands from the Orb, and ended the spell.

"Well. That was…different," she said, sounding tired and highly confused, but altogether calm. "And not in a nice, I-dyed-my-hair-a-weird-color kind of different, either."

"What…the hell was that?" Xander asked, cautiously moving forward to put a hand on Willow's shoulder.

"Willow, are you hurt?" Tara added, crouching down next to her girlfriend.

"What did you _do_?" Buffy demanded.

But Kurama wasn't listening to any of it. His eyes were for Hiei only. Willow, too, was ignoring the others, though she did reach out and squeeze Tara's hand. She was watching Kurama, and after a moment she said quietly, "I think it worked, Kurama."

Kurama didn't reply. Color began to return to Hiei's skin, and he began to breathe deeply and evenly, going from unconsciousness to natural sleep. But it wasn't until he made a tiny sound somewhere between a sigh and a tired groan and turned over on his side, curling into a small ball, that Kurama seemed willing to believe Willow.

And even then, he didn't say anything. All of his strength just seemed to go out of him, and he collapsed on the bed next to Hiei and leaned his head against the wall. In almost the same movement, he reached over and laid his hand on Hiei's shoulder, and kept it there.

The room was silent for a time. Kurama looked at Hiei, and Willow looked at Kurama, and Tara looked at Willow, and Buffy and Xander looked at each other, bewildered. Finally, though, Kurama spoke, softly. "Thank you, Willow. More than you could ever guess, thank you." Even as he said it, he seemed to be pondering something that commanded a great deal of attention.

Willow shrugged. "You're just lucky you've got those pretty-boy looks or I may have kicked you out."

Kurama smiled a little, but his voice remained serious. "I'm in your debt…for both of us," he added, inclining his head in Hiei's direction.

"You'll pay me back someday." And suddenly Willow was no longer making light of the matter, and Kurama knew what she meant.

"I have endangered you greatly tonight," he said to her, his voice holding careful formality. "It was never my intention, I assure you, but…it was meant to happen, it seem. Even so, I owe you explanations for many things. And you will get them, but not now. No, not now." He fell silent again, and once more seemed deep in thought.

"Explanations, but not today," Buffy said, effectively breaking Kurama's concentration. "Are you serious?"

Kurama came slowly out of his contemplation and fixed deep green eyes on Buffy, who met his gaze with slight discomfort. "Is there a reason for you to think I'm not?"

Buffy looked slightly disbelieving, but she answered readily enough. "_Yes!"_

"What is it?"

"You come in here. I have no idea who you are, but you seem to know my best friend well enough to come to her for help. She gives it to you—and she gets attacked by…by _something_. None of us have any idea what it is but you seem to know. And you know who I am. Who we _all_ are. You're dangerous, and now you're refusing to tell us what's going in."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm sorry, are you _serious_?"

"Look, I _promise_ that I will tell you everything. I was always going to—this whole night just sort of moved up my plan. But I can't do that tonight. There are too many…things…I have to _think_, and I can't do that here." Kurama turned suddenly to Willow and Tara. "But I do want to tell you two that I was _not_ faking friendship. I want you to know that, whatever you may hear from me in the future. Both of you are good people, and I think I would have ended up your friend even if our meeting had been just a coincidence."

Tara was the one who answered him this time. "You're not an exchange student, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Are you…human?" She hesitated before the last word, as if fearing to offend or, worse, that he would say he wasn't.

Kurama laughed humorlessly. "That is…a matter for debate, and quite a story." He stood up as he spoke and, turning, lifted Hiei gently into his arms. "Thank you again, Willow. I'll come back tomorrow if you'd like, and we can…figure things out. It was nice to meet you all. I hope to see you soon…"

"Excuse me, but a conversation did _not_ just end!" Buffy blurted.

"Didn't it?" Kurama asked, reining in his impatience with long practice.

"No! You can't just drop a bomb like this and then leave! Especially after practically _telling_ us you're a demon. Do you honestly think I'm going to let you go?"

Kurama very nearly lost his temper then, and as it was his voice became notably colder. "There will be no 'let' about it. You have become rather too cocky if you think there could be. I don't doubt that you are skilled but I have been around _far_ longer and if I want to leave now then nothing you can do will stop me. Nor could anyone else. Now, I meant it when I said I would come back tomorrow, because Willow, at least, deserves and explanation, and Tara, too. I wouldn't object to you being here, and Xander. But for tonight, I have much to consider and I want to go now and…consider it."

With that, he nodded a cool farewell to Buffy, a warmer one to Willow and Tara, and smiled a bit at Xander, who hadn't stopped watching him once since he'd walked through the door, although he didn't exactly look unfriendly—just wondering. Xander smiled back, Willow and Tara waved, and Buffy just looked at the door as if to say, _Well, go, then_.

And Kurama went.

XXX

**Sunnydale Motel, Room 16**

Sam came back to the motel a little after eight, take-out bag in hand. He didn't say anything as he went over and dropped the bag on the table next to Dean's bed, then turned and went to get his laptop.

Dean sighed and went over to dig around in the bag. He hadn't expected Sam to act any other way, and in truth, he was sort of glad of it. If Sam had actually tried to talk to him about their argument, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it. He just didn't know how to _do_ the talking thing! As the older brother, he really should have, but the Winchester men had only one skill: action. Words had never really had any place in their lives.

So in a way, it was a good thing that Sam was so repressed.

Still, sometimes Dean wished…

_No_, Dean told himself firmly. _Wishing doesn't solve anything. It just makes you look weak. If you want something, don't waste time asking empty air for it—go out and get it yourself_. So said John Winchester the whole time his sons were growing up, and so said Dean.

Sam had gotten his laptop by then, and now he was lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard, with the thing open in his lap, his face washed in the cold blue light of the screen. He was typing away, and Dean knew instinctively that he was researching possible connections to his…condition.

Somehow, the sight had always comforted Dean in a way that nothing else could. It was…_Sam_.

Sam looked up then and noticed his brother watching him. "What?"

Dean half-smiled and turned his attention to his burger. "…Nothing."

XXX

**Kurama's Apartment**

Half an hour after Kurama left Willow's dorm room, he was back at his rental apartment. Hiei was still out on the bed, though he seemed to be sleeping more lightly now, and Kurama was perched on the edge of the mattress, chin propped up in one hand, deep in thought.

The night's events, which had seemed to simple only a few hours earlier—nothing more than a freak attack—had suddenly become anything but. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, something had shifted in his mind, opening the gate to a flood of new ideas.

Kurama didn't believe in coincidence. He had been around for way too long and seen way too many things to believe in anything less than intentional manipulation of events _or_ the workings of fate.

So what had been happening today—Dean and Sam Winchester, two demon hunters, showing up _with_ a demon, with an unbelievable story of extremely odd happenings to the younger Winchester, looking for help from a man neither of them had ever heard of or met, and then, not three hours after that, a random demon just happening to show up and attack Hiei—it wasn't all just coincidence. It had all happened for a reason.

Kurama just wished he could figure out what that reason was.

But something was happening. He was sure of it. Something big had been set in motion the night Sam Winchester met Hiei in battle, something that might very well change lives. Kurama wasn't sure what it was or how he knew it, and he had a feeling that things weren't going to become clear until several more pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

But would they do that on their own, or would they need to be nudged?

_I just don't know!_ Kurama thought, rubbing his forehead with a soft groan. _And the Winchesters…there's something they aren't telling… _Kurama had had _that_ feeling ever since he and Hiei's walk around Sunnydale, when Hiei had given all the details of the Winchesters' stay at the temple, including Sam's decidedly odd "freak-out"—as Americans would deem it—about which the whys and wherefores and explanations remained between Dean and Sam and no one else.

Kurama badly wanted to know about that, but after spending half an hour with them, he knew that getting anything other than basic facts from Winchesters would take a lot of work.

And then there was Buffy Summers and her friends. Willow and Tara had already proven to be quite friendly and willing to accept whatever came their way, but the others would take a lot of charm and, also, a lot of work.

Kurama groaned again and lay down on the bed next to Hiei.

_I_ hate_ Koenma…_

XXX

Dean woke to the annoying buzz of his cell phone on the nightstand. He say up and fumbled for the thing without really waking up. "H'lo?"

"Dean?"

Dean ran his free hand through his hair and cracked open his eyes to look at the clock. Seven-thirty AM. _Okay, I'm killing this person_…

"Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean said, his voice croaky from sleep.

"Oh, good. It's Kurama. Listen, I'm sorry to call so early, but there's been a change of plans. Very last minute. I still want to meet with you two but under…different circumstances."

"Okay, whatever. When, where, who?"

"Nine this morning, Willow's dorm, Willow, Tara, and three others, all of whom are sort of…involved…in this."

"In what?" Dean asked.

"In…my helping you."

"So that means…what, exactly?"

"Well…I think this job and your…problem…may be connected somehow."

"Kurama, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I really can't explain right now. Stuff. I'll tell you later."

"But…"

"The dorm's at Stevenson Hall, room nine. We'll meet you there at nine."

"Kurama…"

"I'm sorry, I have to go, Hiei's waking up. But we'll talk more later, okay?"

Then there was a click and a dial tone and Dean was left staring at his cell phone in confusion and wondering what on earth had made Kurama sound so scattered. Sighing, he closed it and set it back on the nightstand, then turned to Sam's bed. It was empty, and when Dean looked he saw that the bathroom door was closed and noticed that the shower was going. So, once again, Sam had beaten him getting up.

Dean rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed, vowing again to kill Kurama.

XXX

Stevenson Hall was a small building, set far back from most of the other places on campus. Sam and Dean found it easily, Winchester sense of direction prevailing as usual, and by five to nine they stood at the door to Willow's dorm, Dean holding a massive cup of coffee and complaining, as was his way, Sam ignoring him, as was _his_ way.

Willow answered the door quickly, and despite what Dean now knew about her, he had to fight the urge to flirt, especially when she smiled and told them to come in. But the impulse left him as soon as they got through the door, because the room was crowded with people.

Kurama and Hiei were standing over by the wall across from the door, Kurama's hands resting on Hiei's shoulders, somehow betraying a need for contact. Both of them looked tired, though Kurama looked the worst by far, as if he hadn't slept at all. Hiei just looked a little wobbly on his feet—which was, in its way, more startling than Kurama's appearance.

Tara was sitting cross-legged on Willow's bed, looking much more awake than the two of them, next to a girl with shoulder-length blonde hair and a rather annoyed expression. From the way her eyes kept darting to Hiei and Kurama, it was relatively simple to guess the object of her irritation.

The two others in the room stood together and were clear opposites. One was a young man who looked to be about twenty, with a strange assortment of brightly-colored, mismatched clothing. He looked less serious than his friends, but still more so than he should have, like everyone else the Winchesters had met so far on this crazy venture.

The other man was unmistakably older than everyone else there, about forty. He wore a suit, for some unfathomable reason, and he had wire-rimmed glasses. He looked very much the geek, all in all, and it was a mystery why he was even there.

Looking around at them all, a random thought jumped into Dean's mind. _Most of them are younger than Sam…_

He didn't know why that surprised him as much as it did.

Tara broke the awkward silence that had fallen. "Um…hey, g-guys…" She trailed off, embarrassed. "Sorry, I stutter a little when I'm n-nervous."

"What's there to be nervous about?" Sam asked, before realizing that to this group, he and his brother were just two normal guys who really had no business being there and Tara, too, was wondering. Almost immediately after asking the question, Sam continued. "Don't worry about it, I know how you feel."

Willow took over then, for which Tara looked profoundly grateful. "Okay, intro time. Well, you already know most of us, but anyway, the people you haven't met are Buffy Summers—" The blonde girl smiled at them, some of the annoyance fading from her features, and Dean found himself wondering if she was gay, too, and hoping, praying, that she wasn't. "—Xander Harris—" The young guy waved awkwardly. "—And Rupert Giles, who you should just call Giles because I'm not sure he'll answer to any other name."

She paused and waited for someone to say something. When no one did, she put her smile back in place and said, "Okay, so I was thinking that this room is way too small for all of us, and since it's way before noon, maybe we could go out for breakfast?"

She looked hopeful and nervous at the same time, and Dean couldn't help but grin as he voiced his agreement, though he actually wanted answers more than anything else.

Buffy, for one, apparently agreed with this sentiment, because she said, "Sounds good, as long as it's a place where we can…talk."

XXX

They decided on a café near the campus, and within fifteen minutes all nine of them were seated at two pushed-together tables, had ordered their food, and were waiting for it to arrive. They may have fallen into another one of those uncomfortable silences if Buffy hadn't suddenly spoken up.

"Well, Kurama, you got what you wanted. We're all here, including two civilians I've never met, so can you explain to me _why_?"

"Certainly," Kurama said in that pleasant voice that tended to throw people. "But I can't begin at the end, of course, and at the end are the answers to all of the questions you have."

"Well, then start at the beginning," Buffy snapped, her patience coming quickly to an end.

Kurama appeared quite oblivious to her tone. "Very well, but the beginning—_my_ beginning—goes back very far. And after my beginning are many more, some things you can't hear…not from me and not today. But I'll tell you what I can."

"Jeez, we get it! Just talk already!" Xander said, speaking for the first time.

"I quite agree," Giles added in a lilting European accent.

Kurama nodded, and sat back in hair chair, pulling Hiei with him, and Dean noticed that he looked disgruntled over something.

"Very well. Tara, last night you asked me if I am human. Well, here is your answer…"

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, so this chapter may have been a little…awkward. It was awkward to write, I know that. I ended up rewriting a lot of it, actually. Plus things are going slightly off track as far as my plans for this story are concerned. But that's all right, because my muses are usually right.

Oh, and also, I have a question for anyone who may take pity: _Does anyone know where the AdultFanFiction website went?_ They keep sending me to this page that says the site is unknown, and there's this author on there who _only_ publishes her fics on _that_ site. She's one of my favorites and I want to know if there's any hope of me reading her fics ever again. So please, if anyone knows where the site went to, tell me!

- - - - - - - - - -

**1 **Used to store and channel souls

**2 **Used to measure a demon's level of strength. A demon's class can change if the demon works to gain power.

**3 **Roughly: apparation or monster. In this case, it refers to demons.

**4 **The lowest class of demon.

**5** Energy that every creature has, including humans, but which only demons and a very, very few skilled humans can invoke and manipulate.

AN: Keep in mind that I do _not_ speak Japanese, so most of those things are actually things I picked up from other people.


	8. Chapter 7: Yoko Kurama

Anonymous / Mediaminer Reviewer(s):

**Kerri**: Thanks lots for the review! I'm glad the chapter wasn't awkward—it seemed like it to me, but I think I've reached the point where I just can't tell anymore. So I have to rely on other people to tell me the truth about it. Oh, and also, thanks for letting me know about AFF—it was driving me nuts to think that I may not ever be able to read Koibito Yami again… Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

- - - - - - - - - -

Sam was relieved when Kurama was the one who began what promised to be a lengthy conversation. He couldn't for the life of him understand why the red-haired young man had thought it necessary that he and Dean were here today, but right now he was more concerned with what would eventually be asked of them. It had been bad enough to find out that Yukina, Genkai, Yusuke, Kuwabara and Hiei knew the family secret, that Dean had broken the most important "we-do-what-we-do-and-shut-up-about-it" family rule. And then they'd had to break it again with Kurama, because they needed his help and there was no point in being less than truthful.

But Sam was reaching his limit in sharing, and he could tell Dean was too. Their father would kill them if he ever found out that they'd already let six people find out just in the last day or two, and if they told all of these other people sitting at this table—it wasn't a nice prospect.

They were going to ask, though. That much was obvious. He and Dean had stumbled upon something here, and whoever Willow, Tara, Buffy, Xander and Giles were, they were a part of it. And, from Kurama's last comment before beginning his tale, they also knew about demons and spirits and the like.

Now, Sam hadn't been laboring under the delusion that he and Dean and their father, John, were the only ones out there who knew these things. Too many lives were touched every day for _everyone_ to be clueless. But most people tended to rationalize things they couldn't explain, even if it was the death of a loved one, and so never saw the truth, and Sam had always sort of thought that they were very much in the minority.

Apparently, these people were an exception to the widespread game of "there-has-to-be-a-logical-explanation."

How? Why? What had _happened?_

And what had this Buffy chick meant when she'd called them _civilians? _Wasn't _she_ one? And all of these others? Wasn't everyone else here, except, perhaps, Kurama and Hiei, a civilian?

Apparently not.

_Well_,_ at least when they start grilling me I'll have some questions of my own,_ Sam thought grimly, sitting back to listen intently to Kurama's story.

XXX

_"I was born over a thousand years ago, in Makai. That's what you may refer to as a 'hell dimension', although truly, it isn't anything like what you humans would think of as Hell. There are no eternal flames, no inescapable torments. But it's a cold world, with many cruel people, most of whom kill anyone who crosses their path just for the sake of it, and you must adapt to survive._

_"I adapted. I learned quickly not to rely on anyone, because the truth was, they simply didn't care—not even my parents, who I forgot long ago. From the time I was very small, I did everything on my own. I fed myself, clothed myself, trained myself in battle…everything that human parents do for their children—and some things they don't—I taught myself. _

_"And I loved it. There were no consequences, no clash between what was 'right' and 'wrong.' In my mind, nothing mattered except strength—not the lives I took or the valuable treasures that I loved to steal. Makai had no laws to hold me back—there, it was kill or be killed, and that was that. Whoever had the power made the rules. _

_"_I_ wanted the power. _I_ wanted to be the one making the rules. _

_"I lived in Makai for one thousand years, and in all that time I never stopped working to gain strength. But in that time I became cocky. By the time I reached my tenth century I was certain that next to no one could rival me. I was very stupid. And I was also bored. _

_"I was cocky, stupid, and bored. A very dangerous combination… _

_"So, one night, nineteen years ago, I decided to commit a robbery in a very dangerous place. The fact that it was the most dangerous thing I'd ever done—or even attempted—excited me more. Ah, such a mistake…"_

**—Flashback— **

**_"He's getting away!"_ **

**Yoko smiled wolfishly as the voice echoed to his pointed, furry ears from behind. Each of his five tails twitched playfully as he bounded across the ground, in full kitsune **1** form. Later, when he got back to the cave that had been his home lately, he would transform into his other body, that of an extremely tall man, who would look human except for having two pointed ears poking out of the top of his head and a long, gray fox tail. His eyes would change to a sharp golden color then, and his hair would be very long and silvery, the color that his coat was now. **

**Yoko liked that form. He found it rather…dashing. **

**"_Get him!"_ **

**…But this form was infinitely better for running. **

**He couldn't believe he'd gotten caught. How in the name of the gods had that _happened_? He was _Yoko Kurama_! He didn't get caught! Especially not on a simple thieving job…the Reikai bastards must have been tipped off or something… **

**_"We've got 'im now!"_ **

**Well, he'd figure that out later. **

**Not that he was afraid, of course. Fear was not an emotion that he was accustomed to, nor one that came easily or often. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling it…he doubted he would recognize it if it did decide to show up. **

**He did wonder what this odd feeling was, though—that weird speeding up of his heart, the constricted sensation in his chest, the quickness of his breath. He hadn't been running long enough to strain himself, so it couldn't be that… **

**He'd barely completed the thought when the pain came. It was sudden, crippling, like nothing he had ever felt before. _It was killing._ **

**"…Damn." **

**—End Flashback— **

_"So I died. To this day, I stillcan't reallyfigure outhow it happened. All I know is that one moment I was running, and the next my soul and body were two separate things. _

_"I should have gone to the Reikai then. I knew that just was well then as I do now. But back then, I didn't care about little things like natural order. The only thing I thought then was that I would live, whatever the cost to me or others. So, I found a woman in Tokyo, Japan and quickly imprisoned my own soul inside the body of her unborn child." _

XXX

Sam recoiled involuntarily, trying to keep a sudden wave of disgust from crossing his features. Looking at Dean, he saw that his brother wasn't even trying—he was now staring at Kurama with frank and open horror.

They weren't the only ones, either. Every single person at the table besides Hiei were looking at Kurama with expressions ranging from furious to frightened, and all of them looked ready to bolt from the café.

Kurama looked around at them, and his face took on a sad, almost pained expression. "Yes," he said softly. "It is a terrible thing that I did. The knowledge that I did it is always hovering at the back of my mind, and whenever I don't have anything to think about, whenever I let my guard down, it creeps up and hits me. I doubt I'll ever forget it entirely, or forgive myself for it. But you don't need to be as frightened as you are. It's smart to be cautious, but I swear I'm not that person anymore."

He was undoubtedly sincere, and Sam felt the emotions rolling through him abate slightly.

"Why not?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

"You'll see," Kurama said simply, and continued with his tale.

XXX

_"I was as weak as an average human baby when I was reborn. I had known I would be, and so I was able to accept it. I knew that my power and strength would return as the years went by, and estimated that by the age of ten I would be strong enough to return to Makai, and maybe someday, I would be able to get my kitsune form back. Until then, I would just lie low. It was an excellent plan, for all its simplicity._

_"Things progressed almost exactly as I'd wanted them to, with the small exception that I was forced to allow a woman—a _human_ woman—to care for me, because I was too physically weak in a human body to do it myself. Suddenly, there were rules, consequences, things to hold me back, and I had to put up with it because I couldn't survive on my own. And the human—she never left me alone. She was always there, hovering, never taking her eyes off me. When she went somewhere without me, she called another human to hover, and referred to this human as 'the babysitter.' She cared so greatly for me, with a love that knew no bounds. _

_"I hated her. In my eyes, her love was worthless, accomplishing nothing but to stifle and humiliate me in the name of affection. She was beneath me, and she should have been following my rules rather than the other way around. _

_"Still, I hid my disdain as well as I could, because I feared that if I showed it, if I became disrespectful, she would send me away, and if that happened, it was possible that I would be found by my kind—or, a thousand times worse, a Reikai law patrol—before I was ready. Then I would surely die, for good this time. I didn't understand that a mother's love is too great and pure for Shiori to ever _not_ love me, no matter how I treated her." _

XXX

Kurama paused again and looked from Sam, to Dean, to Buffy, to Willow, to Tara, to Xander, to Giles. The last four looked uncomfortable, Buffy looked as if she were trying not to throw up, and Sam and Dean just looked even more expressionless than before, though they seemed rather reluctant to look at Kurama or each other—or anyone else, for that matter.

Kurama immediately looked worried. "I can't have offended all of you at once—is that _possible_?

"…No," Sam replied quietly, speaking for all of them without realizing it. "No, go on."

Kurama looked momentarily uncertain, but then he nodded. "Very well."

XXX

_"Well, even when a thousand-year-old demon_ _thinks he is oppressed and restrained beyond all forgiveness, time still tends to pass quickly for him. The ten years required for me to return to passable strength went by at at least a moderate pace. As the time for my departure drew near, I became more and more excited, though of course I concealed it as I did every other emotion. I couldn't wait to go _home_, to where I _understood_ things…to where I was _free.

_And yet, it seems that this was not what was meant to be, because shortly after my tenth 'birthday' my mother fell ill. _

_"Now, you're thinking that it shouldn't have mattered. It should be apparent by now that I didn't care about her. And it's true that when I first found out, it _didn't_ matter to me. I went on making my preparations without a second thought. _

_"It wasn't until I was about to open a portal that it hit me, hard. _Shiori was dying_. It may not have been that night, or the next, or even the one after that, but someday, maybe someday _soon_, the woman who had spent the last ten years caring for me was going to leave this world, robbed of her life by a killer living inside her own body. _

_"At the time, I couldn't understand the horrible feeling that came over me at the thought. It caught at my breath and weakened my body and made me altogether furious. I wanted it gone, and was sure that if I could just get away from this house, this world, where the woman had entered my life, if I could just get back to Makai where such things mattered not—I could forget. _

_"I started to open to portal. _

_"The feeling worsened. _

_"Stubbornly, I tried to ignore it, though it grew as the portal did. _

_"I didn't notice my tears until the third slid down, and for a few moments I couldn't for the life of me figure out what they were. Then I remembered what Shiori did sometimes for reasons unknown to me—I was crying. _

_"I grew angry then. I shouted, screamed, thinking that maybe if I could just yell loud enough, I could get that poisonous, debilitating feeling out of me by sheer volume. When that didn't work, I closed the portal and went inside—I was in the backyard at the time—and began to systematically wreck the house. I upended chairs, threw end tables across the living room, tore cushions off the couch, smashed lamps, turned over the kitchen table—by the time I was done the house was barely recognizable, and I was exhausted. _

_"I guess I fell asleep or passed out or something, because the next thing I knew it was morning and I was lying on the floor of the destroyed living room, my muscles aching from all the work they'd done in my rage, my eyes gritty from tears. _

_"I was tired, in pain, but at last I felt calm enough to think. And more importantly, I knew what I was going to do now. I had never wanted to do it, but now I had no doubt that it was the right thing for her and for me. _

_"I went to the hospital first. They tried to keep me out—to them I was only a ten-year-old-boy, after all—but I'm a very persuasive person and in a few minutes I was on my way to Shiori's room. _

_"She was overjoyed to see me—she said that she had told them, over and over, that she needed to call her son and get a babysitter, but they had been too busy running those all-important 'tests'—and she seemed quite calm, and quite unsurprised that _I_ was so calm. We didn't once touch upon the subject of her disease or where we were, but rather spoke of pleasant things like my schooling and what I was reading at the moment—I'd always been a shameless bibliophile—and in turn I asked her about work and her friends. Once we'd covered all this—which took a surprising amount of time—she made a phone call to 'the babysitter' and then we kept on with our conversation. _

_"I stayed there all day, and by the time I left, I was a new man. I had never enjoyed anything as much as those hours with my mother—and I no longer had any qualms about thinking of her as 'mother'—and I was looking forward to doing it again the next day. The fact that I was going to be _around_ the next day suddenly seemed perfectly obvious. _

_"I went home with the babysitter, and when we got there and she saw the wreckage of the house, she was at first sure that we had been robbed. When I told her I had done it—well, she nearly fainted. I could almost see her thoughts stamped across her face—what ten-year-old could _do_ such a thing? But luckily she chose not to say anything, and I cleaned up the mess with her help. _

_"Once that was done, I went and called my school, to inform them that I wouldn't be coming in for a while. The secretary who answered got rather flustered when I explained, likely because my tone was so normal and tranquil. I had always disconcerted people at my school—I knew far too much for my age and I was way more down-to-earth than many adults. But this proved to my advantage now—the secretary's discomfort made her easy to talk down, and soon I convinced her to excuse me for as long as I needed, and we worked out a plan for me to get my work done so that I could keep up with everyone else. _

_"And so I stayed. I gave up all thought of going home, and I began a whole new life. A life that consisted of school, humans—and a search for my mother's cure. _

_"Five years passed. I went through elementary and middle school, and I went on to my first year of high school. My mother went on with life, too, and only the occasional collapse and hospitalization marked her out as one diseased. We became…close…and it began to seem to me that this was the world I…belonged in. _

_"Then I met Hiei." _

**—Flashback— **

**Kurama studied the small, lethal demon in front of him with a mocking sort of amusement, allowing just enough of his emotions to show on his face to make the other aware of them. "And what makes you think I care about any of this?" **

**To Kurama's surprise—which he _did_ conceal, as surprise may betray a weak point—the stranger met his gaze—and his biting sarcasm—without so much as a blink. "Because I know who you are. And I know why you remain in this…_place_." **

**Kurama stiffened involuntarily, forgetting entirely to hide his shock. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't _that_. **

**The stranger gave a smirk to rival Kurama's trademark one, though he looked anything but amused. "Yes…I know that you stay here—though you could leave at any time—for a dying human woman." **

**"H-how…?" **

**"Oh, there's no need to worry. It's far from common knowledge. My source is very discreet, but his identity is secret. Suffice to say, I find him very reliable. I'm disappointed, really," he went on, his voice thick with that very feeling. "All my life I've been hearing about the great Yoko Kurama. How cunning, how fearless, how _ruthless_…why, the way people tell it, you could teach _me_ a thing or two. I have been searching for you since I was old enough to be on my own—in other words, since my fifth year—and now, I've found you, only to come to the realization that you've gone soft." **

**"There's more to it than you understand," said Kurama quietly. "You don't know the whole story." **

**"I don't need to. I don't care about the why. I only care about the benefits." **

**"What benefits?" Kurama asked suspiciously. **

**"Power, fame, riches, the works," Hiei said dismissively. "For me, at least. With your help, I could have it all…with your help…" These words, which should have been colored with ambition, greed, some kind of _passion_, were disturbingly flat, and somehow Kurama knew that this stranger's _true_ reasons for seeking his help went far beyond such petty things as wealth and fame. **

**"And why would I help you? What's in it for me?" Kurama asked, because no matter how long he stayed in the human world, he was still Yoko Kurama, and Yoko Kurama always weighed cost versus benefit with much caution before making any decisions. **

**Hiei seemed rather pleased. "Good to see you haven't _entirely_ forgotten our ways." When Kurama didn't reply, he said, "All right, I'll cut to the chase. I can give you your mother's cure." **

**It was a good thing that he didn't seem to expect an answer to that, because from the moment the words left him Kurama was robbed of all speech. He could only stare, and shake, and try to form a coherent thought, and fail, badly. **

**The stranger smiled coldly, and turned away. "I'll meet you tomorrow, and we can talk plans." He didn't have to ask if they had a deal—even though Kurama had know idea what he was agreeing _to_, that he _would_ agree was no longer an issue. **

**"Wait!" Kurama said quickly, finding his voice as the stranger nodded in satisfaction and began to walk away. "Who _are_ you?" **

**The silence went on so long that at first Kurama thought the stranger wasn't going to answer. Then the deep voice floated back to him, bitter and filled with a loathing that was directed not at Kurama, but at himself. **

**"…Forbidden."**

**—End Flashback— **

_"Hiei's goal turned out to be a rather simple one. He wanted to steal three magical Artifacts from a well-guarded Spirit World vault—the Mirror of Forlorn Hope, capable of granting any one wish to its holder, the Orb of Baast, made to steal souls, and the Shadow Sword, which turned anyone it was used on into a mindless zombie. It was the last that Hiei wanted most, though he wouldn't say why. _

_"Now, these three Artifacts had been in the Spirit World all along, but even I had never tried stealing them before. Still, that was what Hiei was proposing. And as for the deal—well, it was simple: if I helped Hiei steal the Artifacts, he would give me the Mirror, to use however I wanted. _

_"I agreed instantly, of course. That had been a given from the moment Hiei told me he could make my mother well again. And with my cunning and his skill at improvisation, we soon had a plan worked out. _

_"We didn't wait even a day. We set off for the Spirit World that very night. There was a third with us, but his name doesn't even bear remembering, nor does anything else about him. _He_ was in it because he wanted the Orb of Baast, and, as he was very strong, stupid, and easy to manipulate, and so would be useful, and as Hiei and I didn't really care what happened to that particular Artifact, we let him come along. _

_"The whole thing went off without a hitch. I was amazed at how easy it was—and suspicious. But not so much so that I left the Mirror with Hiei—oh, most definitely not. _

_"I wasn't aware, of course, that there was a new Spirit Detective in town. I know that you, Sam and Dean, have met him. For those who haven't, a Spirit Detective is someone, usually a human, who has been given special abilities to help protect the human world from harm at the hands of demonic and spiritual forces. Sort of like you, Buffy, except that the Spirit Detective has more physical and mental power than even you. _

_"But I digress. The point is, the moment it was discovered that the Artifacts were missing, the new Spirit Detective, Yusuke Urameshi, was sent to get them back. By the time I caught wind of him, he had already disposed of the third in our small group, and he was after me. So, in an attempt at damage control, I asked him to meet me, just to talk, and to my surprise, he agreed. _

_"We met at the hospital. I chose there because my mother had collapsed again the day before and so was back in ICU for a few days, and there was a point I needed to make. When Yusuke got there, I took him straight up to her room—not so much because I wanted him to _meet_ her, but because I wanted him to _see_ her. _

_"I spent a few minutes with her, Yusuke standing at the doorway and looking uncomfortable, and then we went up to the hospital roof, where I explained everything. Then, once I was sure that he understood the situation, I asked him to let me keep the Mirror, just for the night. Then, for all I cared, he could trade it for one of those videogames he loves so much. _

_"He questioned me, of course, questioned my motives and why he should believe me. I had a very simple reason, however: it didn't matter in the least whether I wanted to keep the mirror or not, because once I'd made my wish—that my mother be cured of her disease—the Mirror would require a price, and I would give my life in payment. _

_"And then, while he was staring at me, I crouched down, and called on the power of the Mirror. It asked my wish, and named the price. I accepted and prepared to die. _

_"Even _I_ couldn't have foreseen what happened next. Yusuke, who, by the way, is very much one for interfering, got in there and demanded that the Mirror take _his_ life instead. He said that he had seen enough broken parents and he didn't want to see it happen to my mother when I died. _

_"The only thing I had time to thing was, _'What a strange person…'_ and then the Mirror lit up bright as day and Yusuke and I were thrown across the roof of the hospital. I heard it say that it would grant my wish, and spare _both_ our lives, because of Yusuke's selflessness. _

_"The doctors pronounced it a miracle, but…I knew better. It was all Yusuke…just as it would be many more times in the following years. That one act was only the beginning… _

_"But I'm getting ahead of myself. There was still Hiei to consider. _He_ knew about Yusuke already, and unlike me, he wanted a fight. And Yusuke was going to go after him the next night. I didn't have to ask him about it—I knew, and I made up my mind to be there. _

_"Details would take a great deal of time, and this story is already far longer than I'd planned, but the basic gist of it is, by sunset the next day, Yusuke and I had defeated Hiei—who was, admittedly, _extremely_ angry with me, but even then he never could stay that way with me for long—and in the morning he was in the custody of the Spirit World guards. And so was I—I had turned myself in, finally having accomplished what I had been trying to do for so long. _

_"I was allowed to go on living with my mother, however, and things went back to something resembling normalcy. _

_"Almost seven months after that, Yusuke received a job to go after a demon at a place called Maze Castle. And as Hiei and I were still technically in Spirit World custody, and had to follow their rules if we could ever hope to be free again, we were sent to help him and his best friend Kazuma Kuwabara. Now, Kuwabara was again different—_he_ is one of the unique individuals to whom the ability to use the energy that all creatures have comes naturally, and so he helped Yusuke on his jobs. _

_"And suddenly, we—Yusuke, Kuwabara, me, and—however much he denies it—Hiei—were team mates…and friends." _

XXX

There was a long silence after Kurama finally finished his story. The plates had been emptied without anyone noticing, and the lunch crowd was starting to drift in. The waitress who had served them kept looking over at the table, as if wondering what they could possibly be saying that could take so long.

"So…how did you come to be here?" Giles asked, sounding as if he was trying very hard not to seem too shaken or excited.

"The Spirit World prince, Koenma, sent me here."

"Good Lord…"

"He says that a lot," Buffy said. "Why'd he send you—or anyone, for that matter?"

Kurama reached for his glass, jostling Hiei a little as he did. When Hiei didn't say anything, Kurama looked down and found him asleep, his head on Kurama's shoulder, still worn out from the night before. Kurama chuckled softly and pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of Hiei's head before replying to Buffy's question. "Koenma is receiving signs of…something. He says something big is about to happen—something that's already starting. Starting _here_."

No one at the table said anything to that—Sam and Dean just looked at each other, while Buffy, Xander, Willow and Tara looked at Giles, who asked, "Could you be more…I don't know…specific?"

Kurama shrugged. "No, not really. He just said that there was some dark power rising here, and it seems to be coming from the Hellmouth—oh, that's what Sunnydale is technically on top of," he added, for the benefit of the Winchester brothers. "The land that this town is built on opens directly into Hell. A barrier separates the worlds—at home we call it Kekkai—but demon / human hybrids can get through it. Anyway, Buffy, Koenma feels that this—thing—may be beyond even your power—and mine, and Yusuke's, and even Hiei's. So, he sent _me_ here, with the idea that I could warn you of the danger."

"But you said when we met that you've already been here over a month," Willow said, puzzled. "If it was so urgent, why wait?"

"Now, did I say it was urgent?" Kurama asked rhetorically. "I said a dark power was _rising_—it's isn't _ready_ yet. The situation wasn't urgent a month ago, or even a week ago. It only _became_ urgent when these two—" He nodded at Sam and Dean. "—Appeared on the scene."

Buffy groaned and leaned forward, her head in her hands. "You should really just stop talking. Every time you open your mouth, you just end up making things more confusing."

"I second that," Sam said, earning himself a smile.

"Giles, does any of this ring some sort of bell for you?" Xander asked.

Giles, who had been staring at the table in silence since he'd last spoken, looked up. "No…there isn't anything apocalyptic scheduled this month…"

"Now, _that_ is a nice sentence to hear from someone outside our family," Dean said lightly.

"Yes…" Giles smiled slightly, but then he leaned forward with an earnest expression. "Now tell me, who exactly are you?"

"Oh…uh…well…" Sam looked uncomfortable, and Dean just plain refused to acknowledge the question.

"They hunt demons," Kurama said quickly. "With their father. They came to me for help and it seems that their problem may have something to do with yours. That's why I brought them along."

The Winchesters looked both surprised and grateful that Kurama had temporarily erased the need to explain so easily, but luckily no one noticed their expressions.

"But we don't _have_ a problem," Buffy said, sounding just a little angry. "All we've got is a warning and two random guys who need _your_ help, not ours. What does any of this have to do with me and my friends?"

"Maybe everything." Kurama sighed and shook his head. "Look, Buffy, you don't like me. Anyone can see that. And that doesn't really matter to me, if you want the truth. I have too much on my mind to be scrambling for the approval of someone who in all likelihood will hate me no matter what I do. But believe it or not, this isn't only about you. It involves your friends, and mine, and me, and Hiei, and Sam, and Dean, and maybe others. You don't believe that it could get bad, but you will. Within a few nights you'll begin having the dreams. And _then_, if nothing else, you'll believe that something is coming."

"The dreams…" Buffy said slowly. "What dreams?"

"You know about the Slayer's prophecy dreams?" Giles asked in shock.

"The _what_?" Dean asked, looking just sick and tired of new information.

"The Slayer. Into each generation a Slayer is born…"

"Ooh, he _really_ likes this part."

"One girl in all the world," Giles continued, ignoring Willow. "She alone will stand against the demons, vampires, and forces of darkness—"

"Oh, alone, huh? Interesting how many people think _they're_ the only ones…well, it's a good thing I'm here to tell you what a bang-up job you're doing _alone_!" Dean snapped.

"Dean!" Sam said warningly.

"Okay, well, let's get back to the subject, shall we?" Giles said placatingly "Anyway, that's what a Slayer is. Now, how do you know about the dreams?"

"Spirit World Records Department," Kurama said simply. "Anyway, you'll start having the dreams soon, Buffy, if recent events are any indication."

"Yeah, but what do we do _now_?" Xander asked impatiently.

"Ah, well, as to that…I'm at a loss," Kurama said, somewhat lamely. "This was as far as I got last night."

"Convenient," Xander huffed, and then fell into thoughtful silence.

Everyone else followed suit, each absorbed in different thoughts, all preoccupied, and for a long time the only sounds in the diner came from other customers.

"Okay, how's this for a plan?" Buffy said suddenly, causing everyone to start. "The four of you come to my house, and stay with me, my little sister, Willow, Tara, and Giles. And sometimes Xander and Anya. And Spike when he feels like it. Uh…it's a big house. Anyway, you four stay with us, and Giles can get his books and look stuff up. And meanwhile, Kurama, can you contact this Koenma guy who sent you here?"

"I can try."

"Okay, then, try. And I guess once _someone_ finds _something_, we can…go from there."

XXX

Dean threw the last of his clothes into his bag and slammed it shut, glancing at his brother as he did. Sam had been quiet, even for him, hardly saying a word on the drive to the motel, and now he was packing up the weapons in their biggest bag in silence, a worried frown on his face.

Well, Dean knew what that look was about, anyway. He had his concerns about this arrangement, too. In fact, he had seriously considered refusing. But in the end, there was really no choice—he had to keep an eye on the two demons and this chick claiming to be a demon hunter like him and Sam, small as she was…and also undeniably _female…_

_Don't go there..._

Well, anyway, the point was, the situation obviously called for more reconnaissance, and the easiest way to accomplish _that_ was to take Buffy up on her offer.

Plus, ya know, staying in the same house as four or five chicks…not such a bad way to spend one's time, in Dean's opinion.

Still, there _were_ possible drawbacks.

_But maybe nothing will happen._

Dean scoffed at his own thoughts. _Yeah, right_.

Winchester luck just didn't run like that.

XXX

"Well, it's better than the motel," Dean said as he climbed out of the rental car and went to open the trunk.

"Anything's better than the motels _we_ stay in," Sam said distractedly, pulling his bag out and throwing it over his shoulder. "Should we bring the weapons in?"

Dean thought about it, then shrugged. "I don't think it'll matter if we do. If they do hunt demons then they won't be surprised."

Sam nodded and picked up the heavy bag in addition to his own, grimacing slightly. Dean saw his brother's hand start to rise, as if he was going to make the too-familiar motion of rubbing his forehead, but then he seemed to force the temptation back.

Pretending he hadn't noticed anything, Dean slammed the trunk closed and he and Sam headed for the door. "Hey, you ever remember what you dreamed about when we were still in Japan?" he asked off-handedly, reaching the porch steps.

Sam rang the bell and said simply, "Nope." Glancing at him, Dean could easily see that he was telling the truth—Sam was great at lying to anyone but him. "Why?"

Dean lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, trying to look untroubled—he didn't know himself why that bugged him when Sam didn't seem to be all that concerned about it. "…No reason."

XXX

An hour later, Sam and Dean had been introduced to Dawn Summers and Anya Jenkins, one of whom seemed relatively normal and the other who clearly—wasn't—and been given a thorough tour of the Summers home, including the guest room where they'd be sleeping—they flipped a coin over the bed, and of course Sam won, but Dean insisted that he would have let him have the bed anyway. Kurama and Hiei were offered Willow and Tara's bed, which Hiei flatly refused without even an attempt at politeness. Kurama had taken him firmly in hand, however, and within a couple of minutes he had Hiei apologizing stiffly and telling Buffy quite nicely that he just couldn't sleep in beds.

When asked where he did plan to sleep, however, Hiei merely shrugged and said, "The roof, or maybe the porch. Trees have always been good, too."

They thought he was joking.

Kurama assured them he wasn't, and that was the end of the matter.

XXX

"Aren't you going to have any dinner, love?"

Hiei looked up at Kurama, who was standing next to the porch swing, looking at him with mild concern, and out of reflex he tried to keep from smiling before realizing that he simply didn't need to do that anymore—not with Kurama.

He had come outside hours ago, tiring quickly of the crowd in the house, and now the sun was setting. Hiei himself was curled up on the porch swing, arms wrapped around his knees in a very un-Hiei-like manner that would have made those inside—who had, after all, only just met him—do a double take. He was looking at the multi-colored sky, and in his eyes was something that made Kurama's heart ache, though not necessarily in a bad way.

"Not right now," he said. "I'm not really hungry."

Kurama nodded acceptance and sat down, and Hiei moved to sit close to him. "Some day, huh?"

"Mm-hmm…_weird_ day," Hiei murmured, sighing in contentment as he leaned against his lover, feeling absolutely certain that _this_ was the exact spot he belonged in. That feeling only intensified as Kurama slid an arm around him and pulled him in closer, only now it was mixed with the feeling that he would be forced to kill anyone who came outside at this moment. "Hey, fox?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think…is there any reason for me to tell them about myself?"

"I've already made up my mind about that. There's absolutely no reason they need to know. It bears no weight in this matter, and I know you don't like to talk about it, so don't tell them unless you want to."

Hiei tried not to let the relief he felt show, but he must not have done as well as he'd thought, because Kurama laughed and said gently, "You don't ever have to worry about me saying anything, love. It's _your_ choice."

Hiei lifted his head and pulled Kurama's face closer. It seemed natural now, although even now the words felt a little strange to say. "I love you, fox."

XXX

_Dark, dark, dark...nothing could be made out in the endless black. There was nothing to hear, either. In fact, the only sense left was that of touch. Feet planted on unseen ground. Hands groping the air, trying, desperately, to find something. Throat vibrating with words that came out but went unheard. Wind sighing and lifting too-long hair, raising tiny hairs on skin. _

_And there was the feeling of _nothing being there.

A_nd then suddenly the darkness lifted, and there was the wish that it hadn't._

_Blood. Red blood, black blood, green blood, every color of blood, all mixing together in such great puddles that the ground couldn't soak it all up. _

_Corpses. Corpses of millions and millions of people, stretching as far as the eye could see, corpses piled on top of each other and covered in bruises and slashes and marks of overwhelming pain. _

_Cries. Cries of the wounded and the dying and sobs of those left alive. _

_Anger. Anger at those who would dare do such a thing. _

_Sadness. Tears. _

_Fear. _

XXX

Buffy Summers woke from the dream to screams.

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, I have a couple apologies to make now.

First, to all of my readers who have seen Yu Yu Hakusho: this chapter must have been _so boring_ for you. Mostly it was just seventeen pages of stuff you already knew. I'm really sorry for that. But hey, for the Supernatural fans, the _next_ chapter will likely be the boring one, so I'll just apologize for that in advance.

And also, as much as it may seem so, I am _not_ trying to drag this out. Really! I know the length this is growing to is probably just plain annoying, but I keep finding new things to put in! And the chapters just get longer and longer so I have to divide them up, thus making it seem that I'm dragging things out just for the heck of it. But really, I'm not, I promise!

Okay, that's all I wanted to say. Review, please!

**- - - - - - - - - -**

**"To hide the key to your heart is to risk forgetting where you placed it." –Timothy Childers **

**"All things great are wound up with all things little."_ –__Anne of Green Gables_**


	9. Chapter 8: De Boyz

Anonymous / Mediaminer reviewer(s):

**nli**: Thankies for your review—glad you're still not confused! I for one dunno HOW you're making sense of this, but I'm still glad you are.

**Shinigami17**: Thanks for taking the time to review, especially since you don't do it very often. I don't really review on Mediaminer, either, because they make it difficult most of the time, but thanks for putting up with the annoyance to send me one. And by the way, if you like Buffy / Yu Yu crossovers, you should check out the story "When Evil Comes to Play" by HanaTenshi. It's very good, trust me!

- - - - - - - - - -

_The battlefield seemed somehow familiar to Sam, and yet he knew that he had never been here before. Maybe he had dreamed about it? He didn't—couldn't—remember…_

_Before he could think on the matter anymore, a rasping voice caught his attention. Tearing his gaze from the slaughtered masses stretching out of sight—they held a horrifying sort of fascination—Sam looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. _

_He shouted and leapt back in alarm. _

_There was a body right next to his foot. _

_Sam thought the man was dead like all the others at first. Then the voice came to him again, and with a jolt of alarm he realized that it was issuing from the unmoving body, and quickly scrambled over to crouch next to the guy. _

_"Hey, are you…?" Sam began, but he trailed off when he saw that the other man was most certainly _not_ all right. "Oh, my God…" _

_"Don't worry about it," the man said, carefully placing his blood-covered hands over the gaping wound in his stomach. "It doesn't hurt anymore…nothing does…" _

_Sam highly doubted that a hold like that wouldn't hurt—actually, he was shocked the guy was still talking. There couldn't be more than a few pints of blood left in his body. By all accounts, he should be… _

_"Are…are you dead, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. _

_"I'm working on it!" the man said irritably. "What, do you think I _want_ to be here?" _

_"Sorry," Sam said sheepishly, and to his own astonishment he had to hide a smile. _

_The man grunted. "Whatever, man, it's all kinds of useless at this point. Your name Winchester?" _

_"Uh…yeah…" _

_"Then your dad's John." _

_"Right…" _Where is this going?

_"Good. Then you'll be…Sammy." _

_Sam's first reaction was annoyance at the name, but it was quickly replaced by uncertainty. "How'd you know that?" _

_The man grunted again. "John did a job for me once. Poltergeist or something, I don't remember too well. But he wouldn't talk about anything except you and your brother the whole time he was there. But we don't have time for a walk down memory lane. _You have to stop him."

_And suddenly his voice wasn't at all steady. It was filled with such terror that his body trembled with it and the emotion poured over Sam like a bucket of cold water. _

_"S-stop what?" _

_"_Him! _I don't…I can't…none of us know _what_ he is! He just…came…and…and…this was L.A. a few hours ago, kid!" _

_The silence that followed this extraordinary pronouncement rang in Sam's ears, and he could do nothing but stare. His first reaction was denial, disbelief. It was _impossible_! There was nothing living _or_ dead capable of wiping out one of the biggest cities in the world in just a few hours. And yet… _

_Why would this stranger lie to him? _

_"A-are you serious?" _

_"I'll assume that's rhetorical," the guy said, rolling his eyes. _

_"But that's not…" _

_"It's possible, it happened, yada yada yada, you can go to group therapy later. Now _listen to me_!" Once he was sure that he had Sam's full attention, he continued in a voice full of pent-up emotion. "He came earlier today. He looked so _normal_ when he turned up…said he needed a lawyer…and then I told him, well, our best lawyer was Karen Edwards and _he_ said, 'Fine, I would like to speak with her.' So I sent him to her office, and went on with my work, and…" _

Okay, he is seriously babbling…

_"And next thing I knew, city was…and everyone…dead…and he was gone…" _

_"You aren't making any sense…" _

_"That's because I'm _dying_, you idiot! So shut up and _listen_ to me. You can still stop him." _

_Sam, for a moment, just kept looking at the guy, waiting for more. When nothing came, he found his voice and murmured, "Me?" _

_"Well, you and a helluva lot of other people. But in the end, it all boils down to the same thing. The guy…he's still in California. You have to stop him! He'll…he won't stop until he does _this_ to the rest of the world." _

_"But…how…?" _

_"You're John Winchester's boy! You'll…" The man's voice began to fade—he was succumbing at last to his injury. "You…you can change it." He closed his eyes, and his breathing began to slow. "You can…change it." _

_Sam remained crouched on the blood-soaked ground for a long time after the man died, those last words ricocheting around in his head. _You can change it…_you_ can change it…you _can_ change it…

_"He's got it about right, kid."_

_Sam whirled so quickly that he nearly fell over, and saw a man standing behind him. He had dark hair and brown eyes and mismatched clothes and he looked strangely familiar…_

_"Hey, you're that guy…" _

_"From your last dream, yeah." The guy smiled a little, but the rest of his face remained serious._

_"Why couldn't I remember you?" Sam asked._

_His companion shrugged. "It's just a thing. You weren't supposed to know I exist, and I couldn't have you telling your brother. You'll forget me again when you wake up, but you'll remember the important thing—that you can change this."_

_"You mean, change what's happened to L.A.?" _

_"Mm-hmm. See, none of this has happened yet. The guy_ he_ was talking about is still biding his time. And you, kid…you might be able to take him down." _

_"_Why_ do people keep saying that around here? _I'm not anything special! _I can't do anything the others can't!"_

_"If saying to makes you feel better, then okay. But the fact of the matter is, you _are_ something special. All of the others—your brother, Kurama, Hiei, the Slayer, the witches…they're all vital to this, too, and you _have_ to make them understand all of this when the time comes, but _you are the power in this_. And you'd better come to terms with that, because the price of your ignorance will be the lives of billions. Not _could be_ or _might be_…_will be._"_

_Sam couldn't think of a single thing to say to that, so he just looked at the other, much shorter man in silence. _

_The guy's face softened slightly. "Look, like I said, you're not gonna remember me when you wake up. But I'm going to make _damn_ sure you remember this: _You have got to do everything you can to learn to control this new power of yours._ And by power, I mean the speed, the visions…and whatever else is going to come."_

_"_What?_ You mean there's _more?"_ Sam yelped in utter disbelief. _

_The man said not a word to that._

_"Answer me! Is there—"_

XXX

"Jeez, Sammy, you _had_ to do this when we're staying with nine other people," Dean muttered, but his voice held nothing except concern as he studied his younger brother.

He had barely fallen asleep an hour before when Sam had begun screaming like someone was killing him. Dean later thought that he shouldn't have been _quite_ so surprised, given Sam's history with nightmares, but at the time all he could feel was fear, as always.

He had been engaged in trying to shake Sam awake when Buffy ran in, followed quickly by Dawn, and then, one by one, Xander and Anya (who _had_ spent the night), Willow and Tara, Giles, and then Kurama and Hiei. They had then proceeded to crowd so close that Dean had nearly killed them all.

Then, about fifteen minutes before, Sam had quieted down, and since then, Dean and the others had been sitting there, waiting, in absolute silence. It was like that for ten-some minutes before Sam's eyes finally snapped open and he sat up with a gasp.

And now he was sitting with his back propped up against the headboard of the bed, Dean next to him, and everyone else gathered at the foot.

Sam looked up at Dean's words, and his face was pale enough to shock those who had never seen him after one of his dreams. "Yeah…I'm sorry." But his mind was clearly somewhere else, and Dean thought he had an idea of where.

"What happened?" Buffy asked, eyeing the younger Winchester.

Sam shrugged. "Nightmare." But the way he looked at Dean told the truth all too clearly.

"What was it about?" Dean asked, carefully making it sound like just a question that someone would ask when his little brother had a nightmare.

Sam met his eyes, and even Dean was surprised at the fear and pure _vulnerability_ in his gaze. "I saw death. Bodies…thousands of them…and so much blood…and I felt all of them, Dean. All of their fear and their pain…"

Abruptly, Dean reached out and gripped Sam's shoulder, just for a moment, trying to convey some sort of non-chick-flick "I'm here for ya." Sam looked gratefully at him, but being Winchesters, neither said anything.

It was then that everyone noticed Buffy staring at Sam with something like accusation in her eyes.

"What's up, Buff?" Xander asked.

"I just had that same dream."

Giles moved forward instantly. "Oh? Was it a prophesy? Is it going to come true?"

"Yes."

"So that means that _he_ had a prophecy dream too?" Anya, who made both hunters slightly uncomfortable but nevertheless seemed rather valued in this group of misfits, asked in confusion. "I thought that was just another weird Buffy thing."

"I always thought so, too," Giles said, sounding preoccupied.

"Who _are_ you guys?" Buffy demanded. She still hadn't taken her eyes off Sam, who was beginning to fidget under her scrutiny.

"Kurama already told you—we're demon hunters," Dean replied before Sam could say anything.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "A person can't just wake up one morning and _decide_ to hunt things that most people say don't exist."

"You wouldn't say that if you were part of my family," Dean countered before he thought about it.

"So it's your whole _family_ that does this?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Yeah, all three members of it," Dean replied bitterly. _If it's still even that many… _"Why do you care?"

"Because you claim to be a demon hunter, but you showed up with two demons. And your brother apparently had dreams like mine, and has had them before, because you don't exactly seem surprised by this. You already know too much about me and what I do. And ever since the moment we met I've felt like there's something you were hiding. It all adds up to dangerous, and unless you tell me what's going on you can just pack your stuff and get out right now."

"It's like one in the morning!"

It wasn't Dean or Sam who protested, but Willow. Buffy didn't look at her friend as she replied. "I don't care. I want to know what they're hiding."

"Well, then, you can just keep on guessing, blondie. I'm tired of telling people about this!" Dean snapped. "It's nobody's business but ours and I'm sick of people acting like it is. I told Yusuke because I had to. I told Kurama because we needed his help. But I see no reason to tell _you_. And—"

"Tell her, Dean."

The soft voice cut through the room, affectively ending Dean's tirade and restoring silence to the room. Dean turned to face his brother, making no attempt to mask his surprise and irritation. "But Dad—"

"Don't give me any crap about Dad, Dean. I know he wouldn't want this, but you still need to tell them."

"But why—"

"Just trust me on this, okay? You know I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You'd do anything to break orders."

Sam didn't respond to the jibe—he made no attempt to protest, he didn't give the patented half-smile, and that was enough.

Dean sighed and shook his head, then fixed Sam with a penetrating gaze. "Everything?"

Sam met the look and nodded, once. His intensity puzzled Dean—what could have happened to make Sam so determined?—but in the end it all came down to the same thing—what Sammy wanted, Sammy got.

"Dad's gonna kill us for this. You know that, right?"

A faint smile played across Sam's lips, and Dean felt a pang of relief. "You can take him."

"You and your dad fight?" Buffy asked, sounding appalled. Actually, physically _fight_?"

"Yeah. Oh, don't look so shocked, blondie, it's not as bad as you think. He's the one who taught us to." This only seemed worse to Buffy, and Dean fought a smirk. "Well, what can I say, Slayer? Not everyone has preternatural strength. Some of us rely on skill, too."

"All right, all right, that's enough of that," Giles said idly, and for some reason, Dean found himself obeying. "Thank you. Now, you said that it was your father who taught you to fight. Am I to understand that he also began to demon hunting?"

Dean was taken aback for a moment. "Wow, just jumping right in, huh?" He took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, then, yeah. The whole thing started with Dad. But Buffy's right about one thing, if she's wrong about everything else. It wasn't just a random decision. Something _did_ happen to cause it—my mom was murdered."

Buffy's mouth dropped open. It was clear that this was the last thing she was expecting. Dean continued, speaking directly to her now, because looking around at the rest of their faces and seeing the pity that was undoubtedly going to be there would probably be enough to make him throw up.

"It happened twenty-two years, six months, three weeks and four days ago." Dean knew the day exactly—he always knew. "I was five years old, and Sam was about six months, and a demon fame into our house. It…it was a fire-demon—"

Dean caught sight of an odd movement out of the corner of his eyes, and it occurred to him that that was where Hiei was standing. Looking over, he saw that Hiei was now looking carefully at the wall, face expressionless as usual but oddly pale. And at the same time it occurred to Dean that he had never before mentioned that a fire demon had been what killed Mary.

Shrugging off a sudden feeling of unease, Dean faced Buffy again. "None of us heard the thing come in, and in fact I doubt it used the door. It went right to Sam's room. I…I dunno why. Probably just one of those random things—a coincidence, ya know? Anyway, I don't really know everything that happened. All I can tell you is that I woke up with this _feeling_, in the middle of the night. I got up, and for a minute I just stood in my room and wondered. And then I heard my dad yell.

"I went straight to Sam's nursery, and I swear to you, I remember what I saw there as if it was yesterday. I found all of the furniture, the walls, the ceiling, everything flammable burning. And then I saw Dad standing in the middle of it, staring at the ceiling. I looked up, and…there was my mom. Her stomach was slashed and her nightgown was covered in blood and she was just staring at Dad with this questioning look, like he knew so much more about what was going on than she did.

"Then Dad turned and shoved Sam at me and told me to take him outside as fast as I could. I was only a scared five-year-old kid and I did what he said—I ran for my life. Mine and Sam's.

"It was weeks before Dad talked to me—to anyone. He took us to a tiny, crappy motel that turned out to be the first of many tiny, crappy motels, and for two or three weeks he just walked around in a sort of daze, leaving me to wonder. I didn't understand any of it—only that Mom was gone and she wasn't coming back.

"Then, one day, Dad came into the motel room—I was feeding Sam at the time—and he came up to me and he said, 'Put Sammy in his crib and come here.' So, I put Sam down to sleep and then I went out to the truck.

"Dad was messing around in the cab, and when I came up behind him he tossed me a rifle. I just stared at it—had no clue what it was, of course—and Dad walked over and started pointing out the different parts—their names and what they did and stuff.

"And my training began.

"Over the next few months, I learned about weapons—guns and knives and chains and just about everything else under the sun. I didn't understand _why_ he was teaching me all of this—I was still only five, after all—but I liked it. And I was good at it. But I never actually got to _use_ the weapons—this was all strictly theory.

"We started studying demons and spirits when I was six, and it was only then that I found out that Dad knew how Mom had died. I didn't even really understand it then, which actually might have been for the better, because it left room for my imagination to go to work, and a kid's imagination usually paints things worse than reality, and I know from experience that a scared person fights harder.

"Anyway, until I was eight years old, my 'education'—I actually considered it a hundred times more educational than school—revolved around four things.

"The first was weaponry. I learned all the parts of a gun, what they did, how to clean then, and how to take them apart and out them together. Dad also showed me how to use them, but I wasn't allowed to do anything more than hold one. We set the age for _using_ them for when I turned ten.

"The second area was the supernatural and the paranormal. I studied books on demons and spirits, and how to kill or hurt them. I also learned all the elements and how to combat each one, and how to perform an exorcism.

"The third part was the theory of self-defense. That was actually a lot funnier than it was supposed to be, because Dad would pretend to be a demon and he'd come after me trying to look scary, and I was supposed to figure out what he was so I could 'fight' him. The whole thing was a disaster at first—I saw it as nothing but a game and usually ended up laughing so hard I couldn't move. But Dad got fed up with this eventually, and he got really mad at me for the first time. He yelled, and told me, without sparing a single detail, exactly what I could expect if I didn't start taking this seriously. It wasn't a pretty thought—it mostly concerned various parts of my body being ripped off by a demon and used to beat me to death, and a lot of other potentially painful things. It was the first time he had ever been really tough on me—and it worked, too, I can tell you that. It wouldn't be the last time, either—it worked better than anything else and so became permanent. Good thing he managed to scare me into behaving, too, because I'd be dead a thousand times over if I never learned what he was trying to teach me.

"But it was the last part of my training that was most important to Dad…and to me—protect Sam. He made it perfectly clear that if I screwed that part up, it would be the worst thing I could possibly do." Dean paused, and his eyes flickered to Sam, who was staring at him, all of the dream-haze gone. "And if _any_ of you turn that unto something sappy I will _kill_ you," he added, speaking to the room but watching his brother. "He was only a kid—and a pathetic one at that. I can't help that he _always_ needed someone to watch his back." Sam grinned, and when Dean looked around at the others he found that they all had identical looks. "Aw, man, _stop it_!" he groaned, although it _was_ almost worth it to see Sam alert again.

"Well, _anyway_…that was what I was taught. And meanwhile, _Sammy…" _Dean placed careful emphasis on the hated nickname, in an attempt to get some sort of rise out of Sam as vengeance for embarrassing him, and was rewarded with a glare that he pointedly ignored. "…Was growing up fast, and getting into a lot of trouble along the way. And most of the time, it was me who took care of him—Dad was away a lot, on jobs that he mostly discovered through clues in newspaper articles and stuff, going after demons and spirits and anything he could find, hoping, someday, to find the thing that killed Mom—and I was stuck being both the parent and the brother most of the time.

"We spent a lot of time together, Sam and I. Actually, that's a huge understatement. We were hardly ever apart. We don't look a thing alike, but no one ever doubted that we were brothers. And even if some miracle took place and someone _did_ make a mistake, Sam always, always, _always_ corrected them. It was damned inconvenient for undercover ops, but there was nothing we could do to convince him to lie about it, so we finally just stopped trying."

"Sounds like he was pretty attached to you," Tara said, smiling.

It was Sam who answered this time, with a shake of his head. "I always idolized him." He said it earnestly, as if it were very important for them to understand this, and unlike Dean, he seemed completely unconcerned about sounding "sappy." "I was absolutely certain that he could rope the moon—there was no way he could fail at anything, in my eyes."

"Yeah, well, you were an idiot then," Dean snapped, trying to keep things light.

"…Who said anything about 'then'?" Sam asked, and before Dean ducked his head it became clear that he was hiding a pleased smile.

"Well, as I was saying, Sam and I were alone a lot of the time. Dad always took strong precautions when he left the house. He made sure I knew his cell number and all the other numbers to call by heart and could remember it no matter what happened, he made sure I knew exactly what to do in an emergency, he put salt down at the door and around the beds and everywhere else—"

"Why?" Buffy asked interestedly.

"Spirit repellent," Dean replied without missing a beat. "And for a while all of that seemed to do the trick.

"I was nine years old, and Sam was five, the first time our family was directly attacked after my mother's death. Dad was away on another job, had been for a day or so, and Sam and I were, as usual, left at home—or the crappy motel that was home for now, anyway. I had put Sam to bed and was waiting for Dad to call, which he always did every two hours, down to the exact moment. (Our bills were always astronomical, by the way.) The salt was down, the phone within arm's reach, the gun loaded and ready, and I was watching TV and trying to fool myself into thinking I was acting normal.

"Dad called at nine, and after he made sure everything was fine, he told me he was about ten minutes from home, having finished his job early. I went to wake Sam and tell him once I'd hung up, because this was way back when he still cared." Sam jerked a little at that, but raised no protest or contradiction.

"I have no idea what the thing was or how it had gotten there—I don't even remember what it looked like—but it doesn't matter, anyway. The point was, and still is, that it was standing next to Sam's bed, ready to kill him for no apparent reason.

"I didn't think. Everyone in this room most likely knows that thinking is the last thing a person does in that kind of situation. The gun was still in my hands—I hadn't even noticed up to that point—and it didn't matter that I didn't know anything about the thing except what its pieces were called and how to care for it. I lifted it and pulled the trigger."

Dean chuckled without humor, his eyes looking not at this room, but at a room in the distant past, at a tiny boy sleeping in a bed, and the creature that was about to steal his life. "It's a miracle I didn't hit Sam. I didn't hit the demon, either, but I didn't hit Sam, so I counted it a good shot. Of course, since I hadn't thought ahead, I was a little less than prepared for the thing to go for _me_ instead of him. But Dad came in then, and _he_ killed the bastard in a couple seconds.

"The gunshots woke Sam up, obviously, but we got him back to sleep pretty quick with some cock-and-bull story because hey, he was five, he'd buy anything. And then Dad took me aside and said, 'Well, that's it, you're learning to shoot.' And things just…progressed from there.

"Fast forward about twelve, thirteen years. I've gotten out of school as early as possible, and work with Dad full time. That year we're actually staying in an apartment for a while. And Sam's seventeen and about to graduate. By that time, he was a total geek, and completely into the books. He had always been…different…from the two of us—he didn't like hunting; in fact, I could go as far at to say he hated it. He and Dad did nothing but fight, he and I argued more and more as time went by, and he seemed to get more miserable every day. But I had no idea how bad it was until his senior year. It was at that point when he started deciding he'd had enough.

"And just like that, he started applying to colleges. He only had a second-rate education—we never stayed in one place long enough for him to stay in one school district—and there was no way we could afford to send him, but I guess he didn't care. He never told us anything about it, either. He just…let us think things were normal." If Sam noticed the faint note of hurt in his tone, he was too tired—or maybe just too used to it—to react. "But obviously, he couldn't hide it anymore once he got the answers back—all acceptance letters. Including a full ride to Stanford, which covered the courses, the books, even a place to live while he was there."

And while in Dean's voice there _was_ the pride that should be found in any man when that man is talking about his younger brother's accomplishments, it was a fragile pride, laced with a bitterness born of sleepless nights and constant worry and an almost constant anger.

"Sam told Dad first. He didn't drop any hints whatsoever—just went into the living room where Dad was checking the weapons, and said flat-out that he'd gotten a full ride to Stanford and he wanted to go.

"I was in my room when they started yelling. I didn't even get out of bed at first—I was too used to it to care. But I could hear every word of the argument through the walls, and as soon as I figured out what it was all about, I got the hell down there as fast as I could.

"I dunno why I thought _I_ could make him forget about it—I don't even know if I was planning to try. But whatever I was on my way to do, I never got to see it through, 'cause just as I got there, Dad told Sam that he could leave if he wanted to, but if he did go he could just stay gone.

"Sam didn't say anything to that. He just looked at Dad, and then he turned toward me. I couldn't for the life of me think of anything to say, so I just stared at him and wondered, _Where did it all go so wrong? How did it get this bad without me noticing it? How did I not see this coming? _

"I guess Sam didn't find whatever he was looking for in me, because he just shook his head and left the room. And by the next morning he was packed and headed out to catch the next outbound bus for California."

Dean turned his eyes to Sam at that point, and as if by some unspoken consent, the younger man picked up the story, though it looked as if it was the last thing he wanted to do. But the fact was, he was the _only_ one who knew what had gone on during he and Dean's long separation, simply because he never, ever _talked_ about it.

But he was talking about it now, and that just added to Dean's suspicions that something was going on. Even so, he didn't interrupt as Sam continued their story, not taking his eyes off the pillow that had somehow gotten into his lap.

"I know it may seem horrible—leaving my family and going off to be 'normal'—whatever the hell that means anymore—while they were off risking their lives and being heroes. But the truth is, _I never wanted to be a hero!_ I'm not cut out for this kind of life. I never was and I never will be. The violence and the blood and the getting hurt _all the time_ and, worse, watching Dad and Dean get hurt and knowing that every day could be the last for all of us…I can't _stand_ that. I do it, but I hate every moment of it.

"So when I left, I managed to convince myself that it was a good thing. That in the long run, it was just _better_…for all of us. I got what I wanted and Dad and Dean wouldn't have to worry about me all the time. It never even crossed my mind that, just maybe, having me live to far away, out of sight and contact, would only make things worse for them, not better. That was the truth, but I didn't find _that_ out until a few months ago.

"Anyway, at the time, I thought Stanford was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was finally free to live my own life, to not think about possibly dying every day, to learn about things that had nothing to do with demons or spirits or hell-beasts. I got a taste of normal life and just like that I was caught. Oh, I thought about Dean and Dad, of course, and I kept an eye on the papers, but I figured that if anything really _bad _happened, one or the other of them would at least call me, so I didn't let myself dwell on it too much, and just tried to _live_.

"And then I met Jessica."

A small smile appeared on Sam's face without his apparent notice, and his voice softened, as if he was speaking directly to someone from the past.

"God…I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was one of those things where all I had to do was look at her for the first time to _know_ that she was all that I wasn't and more. Sweet, and so happy all the time, and with this incredible drive to make sure that the entire world was always as happy as her.

"And I guess she saw…_something_…in me, too, because within a month we were head-over-heels in love. I mean 'in love' as in the chick-flick, kick-up-your-heels, I-will-do-anything-for-this-woman _love_. I swear, every time I saw her that old song 'Crazy For This Girl' would start playing in my head. I was _pathetic_ and happier than I had ever been in my life. It was _almost_ as if that whole demon-hunting thing was a kind of cosmic joke and this was how things were supposed to be.

"And then, about seven or eight months ago, I got a chance to go to an actual law school. I described it as 'my entire future on a plate.' And Jess was so proud of me—she wouldn't stop saying so. The interview was set, I had it all planned—it was going to _work_.

"Then, the Friday before the interview, in the middle of the night, Dean showed up at me and Jess's apartment." Sam chuckled dryly. "He didn't use the door, either, he climbed in through the window. I was going to sleep when I heard him, and I went down planning to knock some heads.

"Of course, Dean jumped me before I could find him, and since it was dark, I didn't recognize him."

Dean snorted. "Or so you say. I always thought you just liked hitting me."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, but the point is, he jumped me, and we started fighting. He pinned me in a few seconds, and I finally recognized him. And next thing I knew Jess was there and I was introducing them like it was perfectly normal for my brother who I hadn't spoken to since I'd started college to break into my apartment when it was just as easy to knock on the door.

"So Dean flirted with her for a little while, and then he dragged me outside to _finally_ tell me why he was there."

"Was it about your dad?" Tara asked.

Sam nodded, unsurprised. There weren't too many other things it could have been, after all. "Yeah. He had gone missing—well, sort of. Dean was working a gig in one state while Dad was in another, and I guess when that happens the two of them are usually in constant communication. But apparently, Dad had stopped calling three weeks before Dean came to Stanford. And Dean wanted _me_ to go and help find him.

"I put up a fight over it at first. I told Dean that Dad had been missing before and he was always fine, and why should I drop everything and go find him? And then Dean pulled out the fact that I'd abandoned him and Dad and the hunt and gone off to live a good life, and _then_ he told me that somehow this time was different and he couldn't do it alone—or more to the point, he didn't want to.

"So I went. Packed and got in the Impala and left Stanford to track the one guy I'd secretly hoped not to see again until I was old and gray."

"So you left your girlfriend," Buffy said, scorn coloring her words. "You claimed to love her but you left her at the drop of a hat even though _you_ said your dad was fine."

It was not Sam who reacted to this, but Dean. He rocketed off the bed so fast that even Buffy didn't have time to react before Dean was on her. He grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to bruise, and shook her roughly, his face livid with fury, ignoring the gasps of alarm as Xander, Giles and Anya each jumped forward. Buffy twisted her arm in his grasp, trying furiously to get free, but Dean's grip was like iron and completely unbreakable.

"Don't you _ever_ say _anything_ like that again," Dean growled, his voice dangerously low. "I swear to God, if you ever accuse my brother of leaving his girlfriend again, I will _kill_ you, you little b—"

"Let go of her, Dean."

Once again, Sam's soft voice had an instantaneous affect on his brother. Dean turned quickly, though his hand remained clenched around Buffy's arm.

"Let go of her," Sam repeated, and now his tone held a bite of impatience. "She doesn't know. Just sit back down before you actually have to fight her. Chances are she could take you."

The look on Dean's face said very clearly that he doubted it, but he finally released Buffy with a snarl and returned to his spot next to Sam.

Breathing slightly faster than normal, Buffy brushed off the concern of her friends, as well as their rather interesting plans for Dean's fate, and faced Sam again, and she looked surprisingly contrite. "I'm sorry, Sam. I…I wasn't thinking."

Sam didn't smile at her, but he didn't frown or glare either. "It's…don't worry about it. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, when we left. Well, I had told Dean I absolutely, no arguments, barring a piano or a safe falling on my head and causing temporary insanity that made me want to go back on the road again, _had_ to be back on Monday for my interview."

"And I'm guessing something kept you from getting back?" Xander spoke up.

"That usually being what happens," Anya added brightly.

Sam shook his head. "Actually, you're wrong. Things went fine while I was with Dean—with the exception tat we didn't find Dad. We hunted a spirit in Jericho, California, where Dad had been when he'd gone MIA. We took care of the thing and then…Dean drove me back to Stanford. Well, there were _some_ complications along the way, but basically, that's it.

"I was sort of surprised when Dean didn't argue about taking me back to Stanford, but I only had to remind him of it once and he didn't say another word about it, and when we got back to my building he didn't make any attempt to get me to forget Jess and Stanford and my life there. And I left without looking back and went up to my apartment."

Sam stopped talking then, and Dean knew exactly why, if no one else understood it. Sam had reached the most painful part of the story, the part that he'd never had to tell anyone else.

"Do you want me to take it from here?" Dean asked, in an unusually gentle voice.

Sam shook his head. "No…no, I have to do it."

"Why?"

Sam ignored the question and went on with the story, his voice shaking with carefully controlled emotion. "The shower was going when I got in, so naturally I assumed that was where Jess was. I put my bag away and went to lie down on the bed.

"I hadn't been lying there for more than five seconds before I felt something dripping down on my face, and opened my eyes." Sam's hands fisted around the sheets, and his voice rose in pitch. "And there was Jess. She was…she was pinned to the ceiling…her stomach was slashed open…that was where the blood was coming from…and then…"

A single tear rolled silently down Sam's cheek, freezing about halfway. He wiped it away almost angrily.

"I knew what was going to happen. How could I not, after hearing so many times from Dean how my mom had died? But I couldn't _move_. I wanted so badly to pull her down, but it was like I was as stuck as she was. And a second later she was burning, along with the ceiling and the rest of the apartment.

"I would have died then. I had no thoughts of escape or even trying it. I just laid there and screamed her name and watched her burn and wished it was me instead and waited for the fire and then Dean came.

"I didn't even notice he was there until he started pulling me out, and I didn't try to fight him. I just didn't think to do anything but scream. And then we were outside, the firefighters were on the way…and Jess was dead."

"So Sam came back on the road with me," Dean said, picking up the story when Sam's voice finally failed. "He took a break from college and…picked up the hunt again. Only now he was doing it for vengeance instead of for the sake of family."

Once he'd reached the end pf the story, silence fell, tense and anxious. Sam looked at the pillow in his arms, Dean looked at Sam, and everyone else looked at one or the other or both.

"And how did you come to have these prophecy dreams?" Giles asked, gently pulling Sam from his reverie.

"Oh…I started having them a week or so before Jess died," Sam replied vaguely. "And they're not prophecies. They're just…visions of people who need help."

"And the dream you and Buffy had tonight—that was one of those?"

Sam nodded at the same time as Buffy said, "I already told you it was."

Dean turned so that he was facing Sam fully, and said, "Tell me about the dream."

So, Sam recounted the whole strange, confusing thing. Well, at any rate, he recounted the part with the dying man, having entirely forgotten the other guy. When he came to the part about the destroyed city being L.A., Xander, Willow, Tara, Dawn, Giles, and Anya all gave cries of alarm, and Buffy leapt forward and positively screamed, "_WHAT_?" It was only after Sam explained that there was still a chance to prevent it that calm was restored.

"S-so basically the thing is either on its way to California or already here," Buffy said, her voice slightly shakier than even the present situation warranted.

"And it's very strong and very powerful and capable of taking out an entire city in a couple of hours," Willow added.

"And you, Sam, are the one who's gonna beat it, with our help," Tara put in.

"That about sums it up," Sam said weakly.

"Yeah, but _why_?" Dean demanded. "Why _you_, Sam?"

"I…don't know," Sam said quietly. "But I do know one thing, Dean—I have to learn to control all of these things. If I don't…we're dead."

He didn't know how he knew, but he did.

And the thought that it all hinged on _him_ was absolutely terrifying.

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AN: Okay, so this chapter may have been boring for all Supernatural viewers. But like Kurama's story, it needed to be told, so…yeah. Anyways, review, please!

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**"The story of your life is not your life. It is your story." –Unknown **

_**"Live in the present, remember the past, and fear not the future, for it does not exist and never shall." –Saphira, The Eldest by Christopher Paolini**_


	10. Chapter 9: Conversations

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"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked off-handedly as he climbed back into his own bed on the floor.

Sam was still sitting up in his bed—the _real_ bed—though he looked pale, exhausted and about to drop, and at Dean's question he started violently and nearly fell to the floor. "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I asked if you were sure you're okay."

"Oh…" Sam said, and then fell silent again.

After waiting for a while for some kind of actual answer, Dean asked, "Well, are you?"

Sam pulled himself out of his reverie again. "Am I what?"

"Okay! Are you okay!" Dean snapped in annoyance, tired of letting Sam see his worry.

But it didn't matter, because Sam didn't seem to be noticing anything at the moment. He just answered slowly, "I'm not sure…things just seem…weird right now."

"Well, yeah. 'cause they _are_ weird. This whole freakin' thing is weird. If it wasn't we wouldn't be here." _And I'm not sure we _should_ be here in the first place…_

The last thought must have shown on his face, because Sam asked suddenly, "Dean, you're not mad at me for dragging you here, are you?"

Dean groaned and turned over on his side to face his brother. "Aw, man, we don't have to have a _talk_ now, do we?"

Sam just looked at him without the slightest change in expression. "Are you?"

"Apparently we do," Dean griped.

"Would you just answer my question, Dean?"

Dean sighed. Sam obviously wasn't planning to give him a choice. "Well, I'll admit that I don't really get any of this. I mean, sure, weird things happened in Japan, but weird things happen to us _all the time_, Sam. Your whole shining deal, for instance. Why're you freaking out about this?"

"Because my 'shining deal' has never had the potential to get someone killed."

"It happened _once_. What's to say it's gonna happen again?"

"It will, Dean," Sam said, with an absolute certainty that left no room for argument. "I know it will. And…and it's not over, either."

"What're you talking about?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead, then reached for the duffel bag on the floor next to his bed. He took out a bottle of pills that Dean recognized as headache meds and swallowed two of them dry. "The visions, and now this new hyper speed thing—it's only the beginning. There's more on the way."

"Oh, come on, don't tell me that. Are you serious?"

"No, Dean, it's a joke I made up because I'm obviously feeling really funny tonight."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Sammy. Okay, so there's more coming. Like what?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno. It's a mystery to me, too."

"So…how do you know it's true at all?" Dean asked skeptically.

"I…well, I get the feeling that someone _told_ me…but I haven't got a clue who it could have been. I know it was in my dream, but…I can't remember."

Dean groaned and knocked his head against the wall. "I…" _Thud_. "Am…" _Thud._ "So…" _Thud_. "Sick…" _Thud. _"Of _this_!" _Thud, thud, thud._ "This is the second time you've woken up without remembering stuff that could be really important, Sam!"

"You think I don't realize that?" Sam said, his voice tight from trying not to yell. "Do you have any idea how much I hate knowing this stuff but not knowing _how_ I know it or what the hell I'm supposed to _do_ about it? I mean, I _still_ don't understand these visions or why I have them and now something _else_ has come along and…I just don't know how much longer I can _deal _with all this! I mean, why do you think I wanted to come here, Dean?" And then Sam's voice went quiet again. "I thought…I wanted to figure out the _why_."

Dean wasn't prepared for the sadness he felt when he heard all of this, and he couldn't for the life of him understand the emotion. Sam hadn't said anything he didn't already know, deep down, but hearing the actual words was…different. "Sam…" But the words he wanted to say just wouldn't come—they never did. Finally, he sighed and said, "Look, get some sleep, dude. Maybe it'll be easier to get answers in the morning."

"Yeah…yeah, maybe you're right," Sam said, reaching over to turn off the lamp. Dean heard him slide under the covers, and then silence fell.

Dean was nearly asleep when suddenly Sam's voice floated through the dark. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" Dean replied, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Do you think we should call Dad?"

There was a very long, tense silence, and then Dean spoke, though more to himself than to Sam. "…I don't think so."

The bed creaked as Sam turned over, and Dean could tell that his brother was watching him. "Really?" Sam asked, sounding surprised.

Dean shrugged even though Sam probably couldn't see him. "Well, what's the point? We don't actually _know_ anything." He heard Sam draw in a breath and, knowing he was about to argue, hurried on before Sam started it. "I mean, we've got your gut and a couple of demons and a Slayer and a bunch of weirdos, and _we_ know there's something going on, but without the facts and the research to back it up, to Dad, we have next to nothing."

"What about that Hellmouth thing?" Sam asked, though he sounded a little uncertain, and Dean could understand why.

"Well, how do we know that thing even _exists_? I mean, the people _here_ seem to think it's real enough, but _I've_ never heard of it, and neither has Dad. And if _Dad_ has never heard of it…" He let the words trail away, but the rest of his sentence was clear enough. _If _Dad_ hasn't heard of it, it _can't_ be real…right?_

"Yeah, maybe," Sam said, but doubt tinged his voice. "But wouldn't Dad want to know about this Slayer business?"

"Yeah, he would, but at this point _we_ don't know anything about her, either. I don't even know what a Slayer _is_. I mean, Kurama said she fights demons, like we do, but what does that actually _mean_? Who _is_ she? And what do all those people have to do with it? And another thing—if she fights demons, why did she invite Hiei and Kurama to stay in her house!"

Sam groaned in frustration. "I am so _tired_ of nothing making sense in our lives."

"Yeah, I know. I'm beginning to get why you're so crabby all the time."

"Bite me. So…what about Kurama and Hiei? And Yusuke and Yukina and Kuwabara and Genkai? Should we let Dad know about _them_?"

Now, _that_ was a harder question to answer. Because unlike everything else in this mess, they _knew_ some things about Hiei and Kurama and the others in Japan, like that Sam's visions had sent the two of them to meet Hiei, and that Yusuke had an actual _job_ fighting evil, and that there actually _was_ such a thing as healing magic, because Yukina had used it. Oh, and that at least three of the group were demons.

And what _about_ that, anyway? Because according to everything the Winchesters had ever been taught, demons were _evil_. Plain and simple evil. Wrong. Meant to be killed on sight. Demons didn't go undercover or walk around among humans without trying to maim or kill anyone. Hell, if Yusuke was to be believed, Hiei and Kurama and Yukina were _friends_ with humans, which was absolutely unheard of according to everything Dean had ever read, thought, or experienced in his entire life.

And then there was the fact that Yukina—who had to be a demon, since her brother was one—had _healing_ powers. Demons weren't supposed to have any actual _helpful_ powers. And she was so _nice_, too. And if that wasn't enough, she was _beautiful._

It all added up to one thing: if Yusuke had been telling the truth about all this, then _that _meant that everything Dean thought he knew was being called into question.

He almost wished that they could all just try to kill he and Sam in their sleep. _That_, at least, would make sense.

"I have no idea, Sam," Dean said, by way of answering the original question.

A soft snore was the only reply.

"…Sam?"

XXX

Even while this conversation was going on, two of its subjects were holding their own conference, outside on the Summers porch. Hiei was pacing, his steps quick and agitated, while Kurama sat on the porch swing and watched him with a mix of amusement and concern.

"Are you all right, koi?"

Hiei didn't pause in his relentless, repetitive, back-and-forth movement as he glanced at Kurama and said, "What?"

"Well, you've barely said two words in the last half-hour," Kurama explained patiently. When Hiei simply kept pacing without a word, Kurama sighed and, on Hiei's next lap, he grabbed the small demon by the arm and pulled him down onto the swing. From there, he forcibly turned Hiei around and said, "Talk to me, Hiei. What's the matter?"

Hiei leaned his head back against the wooden slats that made up the back of the swing and sighed. "You know very well, Kurama…or you should," he snapped.

Kurama, being one of the only people who really _knew_ Hiei, took no offense at the tone. He simply smiled and said gently, "It's what Dean said, isn't it? About who killed his and Sam's mother?"

Hiei wanted to lie. Kurama could see _that_ plainly. But he must have known that it was useless, because he just nodded.

"Why?"

Hiei looked up at that, fixing Kurama with an incredulous stare. "Why, what?" he asked intelligently.

"Why are you worried about it?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Well, it must be _possible_, since I'm being serious right now," Kurama pointed out calmly. "Now, tell me what, exactly occurred to you while Dean was talking that you never thought of before now."

"You _know_ what it was, Kurama," Hiei said sulkily. When Kurama just kept looking at him, Hiei gritted his teeth and said, "_Fine_, you…you _psychologist_." He spat out the word as if it was meant to be the most grievous of insults, and Kurama barely managed to keep a straight face. "I think the one who killed the humans may have been my father."

"And what makes you think this?"

"Because," Hiei said, in a patient voice that clearly stated his desire to rip Kurama's throat out, and said that he would have done exactly that by now were it not for the fact that he was completely in love with the guy. "They were killed by a _fire_ _demon_. A _homicidal_ fire demon. For _no reason_."

"Oh, and of course it's a fact that you and your father are the only fire demons in existence," Kurama said, in tones that suggested a conversation about the weather, and not evil, murderous demons.

"Well, that's _possible_, isn't it?" Hiei asked, a little angrily. "I mean, I'm the only one of my kind I've ever met—"

Kurama smiled at that. "Hiei, koi, you _are_ the only one of your kind."

"Okay, bad example, but the point is, who's to say there _aren't_ any other fire demons? I never even _met_ my father."

"Then how do you know he'd even think of doing something like that?" Kurama asked, though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

"Kurama, you know what I was like before we met. _Everyone_ does. The killing and destroying…darkness like that doesn't come out of nowhere. I _am _Koorime **1** on my mother's side, it's true, but the Koorime don't have that kind of darkness. They're a cold people—most of them—but they don't _hate_ the way I did. So if I didn't get it from my mother, where did it come from?"

The question was rhetorical, but Kurama answered it anyway. "Maybe from the fact that you were literally thrown off a cliff when you were less than a week old, by your own people, and grew up completely alone?"

"Not completely. I had the thieves who picked me up at the bottom."

"Who also abandoned you, just when you could actually feel the loss."

"Your parents didn't exactly take care of you, either!"

"Or _maybe_," Kurama went on without so much as an attempt at a reply, "it came from the fact that since before you even learned to hold a sword, almost everyone you meet has wanted your head on a silver platter just because of what you are."

"Kurama—"

"Or _maybe_ it came from—"

"Kurama, stop trying to make excuses for me…_to my face_! I _know_ how I was, okay? And frankly, I don't know that I would have been any different under different circumstances. And none of this is even the point, anyway. The point is, my own father could have been the one that killed those two people! And if—"

"So what?"

Hiei stopped mid-sentence, and was unable to keep his mouth entirely closed. "…What did you say?"

"I said 'so what?'" Kurama repeated calmly. "As in, even if it _was_ him, what does it matter?" At Hiei's dubious expression, Kurama sighed, and it was in far gentler tones that he continued. "Look, Hiei. I know you. In fact, I can say with complete confidence that I know you better than anyone. So believe me when I say that you are not a killer. You're _chosen_ not to be. And whoever your father was—is—whatever—that will not change, because this is who you _really_ are…this amazing person who is sitting next to me, on this porch, twenty feet from the humans he used to love to kill. You've changed…for good and always."

"But—" Hiei said, and now his voice took on a sort of plea. "But how do you _know_ that it's for always? It would be so easy—_so easy—_to just go back to Makai…back to what I know…back to where there are no rules, no laws. So easy…"

"Yes, it would be easy," Kurama agreed. "And you'd hate it. You'd hate leaving this place. And I don't think you _could_ leave me or the others."

And with that, they had moved on to lighter talk.

"Well, I couldn't leave _you_, maybe, but I could leave _them_, that's for sure," Hiei retorted, referring to the others back in Japan. "It's not like they're my _friends_. Besides, I'm not some _human_ who couldn't deal with the separation."

"The important thing is, _you_ believe that."

"Kurama! It's true!"

"Whatever you say, Hiei."

"Do you want me to burn the garden when we _finally_ get back to your place?"

"You wouldn't."

"The important thing is, _you_ believe that."

"Hiei! You seriously would not!"

"Whatever you say, Kurama."

"Oh, shut up."

"Now, Kurama, you know there's only one way to shut me up when I—mmph."

And after that, there was silence for quite a while.

After all, Kurama had always proven rather adept at shutting Hiei up.

XXX

"So what do _you_ make of all this, Giles?"

Giles winced at the question. He had been dreading it since their long, circular discussion began. He had tried to avoid it and give himself some time to think by standing in the corner away from the group, but alas, it wasn't to be.

So, sighing, the watcher/retired librarian stepped forward, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt as he did.

"Oh, he's cleaning his glasses," Tara said, sounding mildly alarmed.

"He's been thinking _hard_," Dawn added.

"So what'd you come up with, G-man?" Xander asked.

Giles didn't even bother addressing the subject of the name. His mind was simply far too busy. "Well, the fact is, I know a great deal of…nothing. I know nothing."

A long, shocked silence followed this assessment, and Giles fidgeted.

"Oh, my God…" Xander breathed.

"Did everyone else just hear that?" Willow asked.

"_Giles_ is the stupid one here?" That, of course, was Anya.

"Well, this is a very confusing turn of events!" Giles said defensively. "It's not like we're just dealing with your everyday evil. I'm not sure hoe to _deal_ with this sort of thing."

"Yeah, I know," Willow said thoughtfully. "I mean, we've worked with non-humans before—Spike, and Angel, and Clem…even Cordy, now, sort of. But what about Dean and Sam?"

"Demon hunters," Xander said. "Guys who _choose_ to hunt demons. I'm sorry, but doesn't that seem a little crazy to you?"

"After what they've been through?" Tara replied.

"Well, yeah, but people are killed all the time, and as far as I know, no one's ever gone bibbledy over it and started hunting the supernatural," Willow said. "But I guess their father just…saw the truth, maybe. _And_ did what he thought was right."

"Which _is_ rather unusual," Giles admitted. "For anyone to even _think_ that demons could exist, much less accept the idea and then _do_ something about it…I think I might like to meet this man sometime. To know what _drove_ him to throw himself into this life…and dragging his two sons into that kind of danger…"

"I feel so sorry for them," Dawn said sadly. "To be forced into it, ya know? I mean, I guess even Buffy could have turned the whole Slayer thing down, but it's…different for them. I mean, how do you defend yourself when the term 'family loyalty' is thrown around?"

"Must have helped that they were five years and six months old when it started," Xander said. "When you're that little you _listen_ to your parents. Period." And now he sounded angry. "Y'know, Giles, I'd like to meet this guy, too…I'd like to _strangle_ him for taking advantage of his own kids like that."

"Still, I wouldn't mention that to them," Giles said. "They don't seem to hold it against him. In fact, they seem to be _more_ loyal to him than average sons, if anything."

"Well, one of them, anyway," Willow said, for some reason sounding amused. "But that Sam…from the sound of it, he's quite the rebel."

"Maybe that was true before, but…revenge is like testosterone—a great equalizer that usually accomplishes nothing but to make oneself an idiot. And it appears to have driven him back to his family and the life he hates. I just hope he can handle his anger. Because he does have a lot of it—even if he doesn't know it—and that could be dangerous."

"Oh, I don't think he's _dangerous_, exactly," Willow protested. "In fact, he seems really nice. Quiet, but nice. And it couldn't hurt to have others on our side, you know."

"And they are _very_ good-looking," Anya added. At their incredulous looks, she added, "Oh, like all of you haven't thought so at least once. Except Giles. Giles wouldn't notice."

While everyone was busy laughing at the expense of poor Giles—who, after all, had absolutely no defense against a bunch of twenty-year-olds—the Watcher himself suddenly looked over at Buffy, who was sitting at the kitchen table with her chin propped in one hand, staring off into space.

"Are you all right, Buffy?" Giles asked with concern, and the others quieted to listen.

Buffy started slightly and turned to him. "Sorry, what?"

"You've just been very quiet," Giles said patiently. "Are you okay?"

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. I was just…thinking. About Sam and his…visions." She looked up at him. "Do you think he really does have them?"

Giles sat down in the chair next to hers. "Well, I can't really think of any other explanation. You say you had the same dream. And you know that it was a prophecy dream, yes?"

Buffy nodded reluctantly. "I'm sure it was. It was so _real_. But Giles, I have no idea what Sam was talking about when he mentioned that dying guy. I didn't talk to anyone in that dream. And I don't think it was just because Sam woke me up too soon."

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

"I'm not sure, but…I have a feeling that he plays a big part in this—bigger than we know. Maybe bigger than _he_ knows. And…" She sighed. "And I'm worried, Giles. About…whatever is coming. We don't even know what it is, much less how to fight it! How do we even know it _exists_?"

"Oh, it exists. Whatever 'it' is. Of that much we can be fairly certain. Kurama, Hiei, Sam, and Dean all showing up at the same time…you having another prophecy dream…Sam having the same dream…visions…none of these are mere coincidences. They're signs…all pointing to the same thing—evil."

"Yeah, that's great and all, but can somebody shed some light on what we're going to _do_ now!" Anya asked impatiently. "Besides sitting around and asking impossible questions?"

"Yes, I will," Giles snapped. He lost patience with Anya rather easily. "We're all going to go to bed now. It's almost two in the morning. We've all been up half the night and none of us are thinking very clearly. Tomorrow, Willow, you will call Angel in L.A. and you will explain the situation. If he offers to come, accept the offer and tell him to bring Cordelia. If he doesn't, tell him we need Cordelia to come, anyway. Once that is taken care of, we will begin researching. Are you _quite_ satisfied now?"

"Yes," Anya said cheerily. "Good plan, Giles!"

XXX

Los Angeles, California

Cordelia "Cordy" Chase wasn't exactly in the best of moods. First, she hadn't spent the night sleeping, like a _normal_ person would have. Instead, she'd woken up time after time, drenched in sweat, after being plagued with nightmares that she couldn't remember upon awakening. Then, when her alarm rang, she managed to knock it off her nightstand and break it. Then she had discovered that she was completely out of coffee, not to mention anything remotely resembling a breakfast food.

All of this added up to one thing: a tired, hungry, crabby Cordelia.

And to make matters _worse_…

XXX

"Cordelia. We've got trouble."

Cordelia sighed and dropped her purse on the counter. "Great. 'Cause that's exactly what I wanted to hear first thing this morning."

Angel smiled, and Cordelia found herself smiling back, though her voice was still sarcastically irritated as she continued. "Fine, what now? Another _toilet_ demon?"

Angel shook his head. "Hellmouth."

That was really all that was required for Cordelia to toss aside her mood. "What happened? Is everyone—"

"They're all fine," Angel assured her quickly. "Things are…confusing…over there, but no one's hurt."

Cordelia nodded, satisfied. "Where are Fred and Gunn and Wes?"

If Angel was surprised by the supposed randomness of the question, he, of course, hid it. "Fred and Gunn are out being in love, and Wes went…somewhere. And Lorne's at some bar or another, doing karaoke, in case you were wondering."

"Oh. Okay. So tell me what's going on."

"Well, I wasn't able to get much detail out of Willow when she called—she seemed a little scattered—but apparently there are four new people staying at Buffy's. One of them showed up at U.C. Sunnydale and met Willow and Tara and they became friends. And then the guy's _boyfriend_—"

"Right on."

"—Showed up with two _other_ guys, Sam and Dean Winchester—brothers—and—this is where things got a little scrambled—apparently, Sam and Dean _hunt_ demons, and Kurama and Hiei, the other two, _are_ demons. And they're all staying at Buffy's house, so she can keep an eye on them, since they know she's the Slayer and all. And then, last night, Sam, the younger brother, had a nightmare. Not so unusual, but _apparently_ this Sam is some sort of Seer whose visions come through dreams."

"Angel, you're making _no_ sense."

"I'm making as much sense as Willow did. Anyway, the nightmare Sam had last night was one of _those_ nightmares, and the long and short of it is that there's something dark coming to California, and they need you in Sunnydale like yesterday."

"Why me?" Cordelia asked, a little suspicious.

"I have no idea. Probably because you're a psychic. But either way, they need you there, so…"

"I'll go. Of course I'll go. But I'd _really _like to know what's going on."

Angel nodded. "So would I. Which is why I'm going with you."

"You are?"

"Yeah. I offered and she accepted in about half a second. Which kinda worries me, come to think of it. You don't mind, do you?"

Cordelia smiled. "Why would I mind? You're my friend, Angel. And if things get bad…well, you're good with bad."

"Very true. But I think the others should stay here. We can't all stay with Buffy and someone has to hold down the fort here."

"Right. We leaving tonight?"

"Well, I obviously can't go out right now, so yes, tonight."

XXX

Sunnydale, California 

Sam woke feeling like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all, and first thought was that he was getting sick of that feeling. But he knew that there was no way he was going back to sleep, so with a sigh he threw aside the covers and got out of bed.

Dean was still sprawled out on the floor, sound asleep, and Sam felt a twinge of envy as he threw on some clothes, then crouched and shook his brother awake.

Dean groaned and slapped halfheartedly at him, mumbling incoherently.

"Hey. Hey, wake up for a sec."

"Wh…wha' time is it?" Dean slurred.

"Almost seven."

"…'M gonna kill you."

"Yeah, that's great. Listen, I'm gonna go down and see if anyone's up. Do you want me to come get you later?"

"Death. And it's gonna be painful."

"Dean."

"Whatever. Just _go away_."

"Okay, okay, I'll be back up in a couple hours."

Dean snored in reply.

XXX

Sam hadn't really expected anyone to be awake yet—he himself was an early riser, but he had come to realize that he was one in about a million—so he was sort of surprised to hear, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, faint noises coming from the kitchen.

He found Tara, Willow and Giles in the kitchen. Giles was sitting t the table with a cup of coffee in one hand, reading a newspaper, and Willow and Tara were busy rummaging in the refrigerator.

"Ha! I _knew_ there had to be some!" Tara said triumphantly just as Sam came in. She turned around and set the carton of orange juice she held on the counter, and saw Sam. "Oh, good morning!" she said brightly.

"Hi," Sam replied.

"You're up early," Giles commented, looking up from his paper for a moment.

"Yeah, I noticed. So are you."

Willow shrugged. "Giles _always_ gets up early, and I don't think Tara and I ever went to sleep—" Willow grunted a little when Tara elbowed her in the ribs. "We were, uh, tslking all night. About…stuff. Um…where's Dean?"

Sam was only too happy to ignore the implications of what Willow had just said, and he answered the question a little _too_ quickly. "He's still asleep. I'm gonna wake him in a couple hours."

"Want something to eat?" Tara asked.

"No, thanks. But…is there coffee left?" Sam asked, a bit reluctantly. He always felt so awkward asking for other peoples' food and drink, but he had gotten so little sleep in the months since Jessica's death that he was pretty sure coffee was the only thing that could keep him from crashing nowadays.

Tara, however, just seemed happy that he actually wanted something. "Giles took the rest of the pot, but I can make fresh. We're a very coffee-oriented bunch around here—it's all the night hours. Did you sleep okay?" she asked as se went over and started up the coffee maker. I mean, after…uh…"

"After I had a total freak-out and woke up the entire house? I slept fine," Sam said, smiling to lighten his words. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"Yeah, you said so last night. Don't worry about it. It was pretty important info you gave us."

As if on cue, Giles suddenly folded his newspaper and laid it down on the table. "Speaking of which, Willow, you called Angel, didn't you?"

"Got off the phone about fifteen minutes ago. They're driving out tonight."

"Who's Angel?" Sam asked, sitting down across from Giles.

"He's an…associate…of ours. Lives in L.A.," Willow answered.

"Oh. So _that's_ why…"

"We all spazzed last night, yeah. And anyway, we _really_ need him and his—well, his boss, I guess you could say, though it's kinda impossible to tell—here. So we called 'em, and they're coming in tonight."

Sam took the cup Tara handed him and drank gratefully, feeling the caffeine begin to wake him almost immediately. "And if you don't mind my asking, why exactly did you ask them to come here?"

"Because Cordelia—that's the other one who's coming—has visions like you do."

Willow said it casually, without even turning from the cereal she was pouring for herself, as if this news wouldn't even remotely affect anyone, but Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he suddenly felt like he was about to fall out of his chair. He swallowed a huge swig of coffee, nearly burning his throat black, and began to hack up a lung.

"_WHAT!"_

XXX

"So…explain all this to me one more time."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "I think she made things as clear as possible the _last_ time, Dean."

"Maybe in your world, but in _reality_ I need one hell of a reason to work with a _vampire_. Especially since I still don't believe they exist," Dean said stubbornly.

Sam sighed heavily and said to the room at large, "_God_, what an obstinate son of a—"

"You _really_ don't want to finish that sentence, Sammy. I can still beat you black and blue without breaking a sweat."

So, rather than continue trying to reason with his brother—a futile effort by all accounts—Sam turned instead to Buffy, Dawn, Giles, Anya, Xander, Tara and Willow, all of whom were now packed into the kitchen. The only ones missing were Hiei and Kurama, who had been nowhere in sight at all this morning—which was undoubtedly contributing to Dean's black mood. The elder Winchester reacted to nerves this way—and the ominous absence of two potential enemies _was_ extremely unnerving, to be sure.

But even so, that was really no reason to act like such a _mule_.

"I'm sorry about him," Sam said to the group. He was trying to show no outward signs of the unsettled feeling in his stomach, which had, admittedly, been there since he himself had first heard the things his brother was still demanding answers to.

"Don't worry about it," Giles replied. "Dean, we understand that you're worried about this, but so far we've given you no reason not to trust us. Now, as we said before, Angel _is_ a vampire, but he is _not_ evil. He has a soul, and so he cares, and remains on our side. He also has strength of body _and_ of mind, making him invaluable to us, especially since we know nothing here. So he is coming and you can either work with him and keep your comments to yourself or you can leave. But I doubt your brother will want to go with you, should you choose the latter."

By the time he finished speaking, his voice was rather wintry, Dean appeared to have shrunk, and Sam was having some difficulty holding his laughter in. Not _that_ much difficulty, though, because despite his age and his English-ness, this guy Giles was _scary_, and no denying it. And there was no doubt that he meant what he said.

Dean still looked stormy for a moment, but then his face cleared. "Y'know, you sounded uncomfortably like my dad just now."

"Well, that's _one_ way to get through to him," Sam said. _Probably the _only_ way…_

"Shut _up,_ Sam!" Dean snapped. "Okay, fine, you win. Now, about this Cordelia chick…"

"I swear to God, Dean, if you ask what she looks like…"

"Well, that's important!"

"To _you_, maybe! But we're not here to get you a hookup, and I—"

"Oh, _relax_, Samantha," Dean snapped. "I wasn't going to ask what she looks like, anyway."

"…Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.' What I was _going_ to ask was what you think she could do to help."

Buffy fielded that one. "Well, first of all, she has visions, too. So she could very well have seen what _we_ saw, Sam. And secondly—well…" She stopped, and looked as if she was trying to figure out how to put her next thought into words.

"You think it would help if I could talk to someone like me," Sam supplied.

"Exactly."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Are you people insinuating that he can't just talk to, oh, I dunno, his _brother_?" Dean cut in.

"Oh, of course not, Dean," Tara said quickly. "That's what family's for, after all. But the fact is, no one can _really_ understand how Sam feels unless they've been there. And we just think it might…help. That's all, okay?"

"Thank you," Sam said, before Dean could reply.

Tara smiled at him, and for some reason Dean looked annoyed. "Whatever. So did you four—" He looked from Tara, to Willow, to Giles, and finally to Sam. "—Decide what to do next?"

Sam smiled. "Oh, we get to do your _favorite_ part now, Dean."

Dean groaned. "Oh, no…"

XXX

"We really should get back, love."

Hiei gave a theatrical groan. "But I don't _want_ to!"

Kurama laughed musically and stepped sideways so that he could wrap his arms around Hiei from behind. "You make it seem as if I'm taking you to be tortured. They're not _that_ bad, Hiei."

Hiei leaned back against his lover and sighed. "I'm not saying they are. But there are so _many_ of them. It's so _crowded_ at that house. You _know_ I can't stand crowds. And besides, you're so shy that more of _this_—" He was, of course, referring to their current positioning. "—Is out of the question once we're around people again."

Kurama smiled and leaned over to kiss the little demon. "Oh, I do love you, Hiei."

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't you?"

"You know, you're getting more like Yusuke every day."

"Oh, _don't_ tell me that, fox."

Kurama chuckled, but then he came back to the subject as a dog might return to a very juicy bone. "We need to get back, Hiei."

"Why?"

"Because we've been circling this town for _hours_. They'll all be up by now, and wondering where we are. They'll be suspicious."

"Oh, who cares what they think? They'll never _really_ trust us, anyway," Hiei said, all humor now gone from his voice, because in truth, though he could _pretend_ not to care what anyone thought, it irked him that no matter what he did, it was likely that no one would ever look past his blood.

If Kurama heard the concealed sadness, he overlooked it. "That isn't true. We could win them over. But you're right that they don't trust us right now, and why should they? We haven't _done_ anything for them yet. But pulling a Houdini—"

"A _what_?"

"Houdini was a magician famous for his disappearing acts. And us pulling a Houdini and dropping out of sight when their very intentions are to keep us _in_ sight---it won't help. And I know you hate being around them, but don't worry, I'm sure we can escape later."

Hiei sighed. "Fine, let's go. But you'll pay later."

"I look forward to it."

"Pervert."

"Delinquent."

"You know it."

Their banter continued for the entire ten minutes it took them to walk back to the Summers home—despite the fact that they'd been out and about before dawn, they hadn't actually ended up far from the house. But the moment they entered through the back door—which was where everyone had been told to go for the duration of their stay—the humor faded.

"Where've _you_ been?" Dean demanded the moment they stepped into the kitchen.

Something in his tone made Kurama look at him quickly, and he saw that Dean looked…distinctly unhappy.

_Hmm…wonder what caused _that?

"None of your business," Hiei snapped. Kurama knew with one glance that Hiei, too, had noticed the elder Winchester's mood, and was determined to match him glare for glare, sarcastic comment for sarcastic comment.

"Um, we were just walking," Kurama explained, shooting Hiei a warning look.

"Well, didn't anyone ever tell you that _humans_ don't just wander off without telling their hosts?"

Kurama bristled at the implied insult, but he remained calm as he went over to pour himself some coffee—after a nod from Buffy, of course. "Why so charming this morning?" he asked as he sipped, making his voice light and free of the indignation he was feeling.

"Why the hell do you care?"

"Dean, for the love of—" Sam began to say. Then he cut himself off and turned to Kurama. "Ignore him," he said calmly, and Kurama felt his estimation of the young man suddenly go up. "He's just crabby because we're about to start on his least favorite thing in the world."

XXX

"Research. I _hate_ research."

Sam smiled. "Oh, take heart, brother mine."

Dean scowled at that. _"Brother mine!_ You've been reading Mercedes Lackey again!"

"Well…yeah."

"Well if you're gonna let that crazy chick pollute your mind, I can't stop you, but I'm begging you, _never_ call me that again."

Sam just laughed and ran to catch up with the rest of the rather large group heading down the sidewalk ahead of them. Dean picked up the pace, too, and tried to conceal his irritation.

He knew it was wrong of him to be so annoyed at Sam's sudden cheer. In fact, it was nothing short of horrible. Sam had been far too unhappy, for far too long, and the fact that he was smiling and joking now certainly should have made Dean glad. And he was, really. He _was_ glad that Sam had finally found someone like himself. But along with that happiness was a feeling of inferiority that Dean was totally unaccustomed to…

"Here we are," Willow sang.

Dean shook himself out of his preoccupation and saw that they were standing in front of an entirely inconspicuous little shop in the middle of a strip of inconspicuous little shops. The sign over the door read The Magic Box, and Dean smirked. A magic shop. Ha.

"Welcome to The Magic Box, owned by Watcher Rupert Giles, house of the widest selection of occult books on the West Coast, and unofficial Scooby Gang Headquarters," Willow chirped, opening the door with a flourish.

Once inside, Dean had to admit that the place _was_ pretty cool. It wasn't very large, but it was absolutely crammed with undeniably _weird_ stuff. Glass jars lined some of the shelves, all labeled in neat, small handwriting. Where there weren't jars, there were small, similarly labeled books, packages, and a few books. The whole place smelled of a combination of wood, paper, and…something all together unidentifiable, but it was reminiscent of some kind of spice. Not a bad scent, actually.

Then Dean noticed the weapons, Sam saw the ladder leading up to an entire wall lined floor to ceiling with books, and the brothers were immediately headed in opposite directions.

All thoughts of research vanished from Dean's mind as he approached the glass weapon cases that, pushed together, served the double purpose of a counter. He began to walk slowly along the length of the counter, staring reverently at the weapons.

They were _amazing_. Beautiful craftsmanship, perfectly sized, all extremely well-made and not one speck of dust on any of them. They were obviously well-cared for, and probably extremely valuable. Axes, machetes, crossbows, swords, daggers, knives, even couple Ninja stars.

Well, one thing was certain, anyway. Every single thing in these cases, down to that one little black-and-silver switchblade, was _way_ beyond Winchester budget.

Then Dean noticed a sign propped up in one of the cases. _Not For Sale—Display Only_.

Or…any price range, apparently.

"Come on, Dean, the sooner we get started the sooner you can be done."

Dean sighed sadly, and turned away from the weapons…toward the books.

_This sucks._

XXX

Dean repeated the phrase in his head about thirty times in the next hour, as he pored over volumes of occult books. They were all well-kept up, like the weapons, but Dean doubted that there was anything in this place that was originally published after 1066. They were all extremely long and complicated, with tiny words printed on yellowing paper and sketched pictures only—no photos. And it didn't help that some passages were written entirely in foreign languages. The Latin Dean could read easily enough, being fluent in the language, but some pages were written in dialects that didn't even _exist_ anymore.

Dean wished for the thousandth time that he could just use Sam's laptop, but Sam had left it in his bag back at the house. And the thing was useless, anyway—Sam had spent their time in Japan and all this morning looking for anything that could have been any help at all, and come up with nothing.

This _really_ sucked, and Dean didn't care how many times he said it.

XXX

Sam was one happy repressed demon-hunter. There were books _everywhere_. And they were _awesome_ books, too—old and thick and just _fascinating._

And the sheer amount of _information_ in them—it was more than even John Winchester had ever managed to scrounge up. Sam was entirely convinced that he would be happy just sitting here looking stuff up forever, and forgetting everything else.

Sam's thoughts turned suddenly to the information he'd received that morning. _A psychic…someone like me…_It seemed _unbelievable_. He didn't know why he'd always assumed that he was the only one, but he had. It didn't seem to matter now, though—all that mattered was that within the day, Sam would be talking with someone who _understood_. Someone who knew how it felt to see the future, to see pain and death, to feel the overwhelming fear that came from not knowing _why_ the visions came. Someone who knew what it was like to be cursed.

Giles made an interested sound, and Sam fell back to earth with a _thump._ "Did you find something?"

Giles looked up from the book he was reading and said, "Oh…well, I'm not sure. It may not be anything pertaining to our current situation—"

"Geez, Giles, dumb it down for us simpletons," Xander said, smiling.

"—But I may very well have found the demon responsible for killing you mother and Jessica."

Dean dropped his book immediately and in two seconds he was standing at Giles' side, trying to read over his shoulder. A disappointed look immediately crossed his face. "It's all foreign."

"Yes. It's Gaelic."

"And you know Gaelic?" Sam asked, going to join them at the table in the back left corner of the room. Hiei, Kurama, Willow, Tara, Anya, Xander, Dawn and Buffy all stayed where they were, positioned at various spots through the shop, but they were all watching curiously.

"Yes, I'm quite fluent," Giles replied. "It was part of the training when I became a Watcher."

"Well, what's it say?" Dean demanded impatiently.

In answer, Giles pointed at the top of the page. "The passage is titled 'He Who the Gods Despise.'"

"Huh. Cheery."

"Very much. The odd thing is, it reads as a kind of prophecy, telling of a woman whose race lives alone on an island of ice in the sky. The people of this land reproduce asexually, and under no circumstances do they interact with males. But the woman in this story broke all of the laws, and left the island one night for no other reason than to see what the rest of the world was like. And while gone, she met a man."

"Uh-oh," Tara said.

"That's right. She went with him that night, and was the first of her race to lie with one of the taboo men. Now the story skips ahead to tell of the birth of _two_ children, a girl and…a boy. The girl was exactly as she was supposed to be—an ice maiden, female, with all of the characteristics of the race.

"The boy, however, was…different. He was born of fire and ice, with two opposite elements warring inside him. He wasn't beautiful, either, as all ice children were. In fact, from what this says, his visage was both ugly and terrifying to behold. And he was male…taboo.

"So they quite literally threw him away. They tossed him over the edge of the island in the sky, and he fell a mile to the mainland. And the demon survived, and grew up into a thing of evil, and was forever known only as The Forbidden Child."

_CRASH_.

XXX

"Are you sure you're all right, love?" Kurama asked with quiet concern. He and Hiei were back to sitting in front of the second-level bookcases, things finally having died down. Kurama had an open book in his lap, but his attention was focused on his partner for the moment.

Hiei, who was leaning on Kurama's shoulder and ignoring the books, sighed and said, "I told you I'm fine, fox. It wasn't that high. I've fallen a mile before, remember?"

"Yes, but you _did_ land on your head this time," Kurama pointed out.

Hiei shrugged. "Didn't hurt that bad. I just hope they don't figure out _why_ I fell," he added, his voice lowered a few notches until only Kurama could hear.

"Oh, I think you're safe enough," Kurama chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they bought our 'Hiei's a klutz sometimes' act. But you may have to fall down more often to lend credit to the story."

"You're teasing me."

"It's possible. And I foresee much similar teasing in the future."

"Die."

"Oh, you love me."

"And you bug me. Now read."

XXX

"Would you stop _laughing_?"

"I _can't_!" Dean gasped between bursts of laughter. "It's too _funny_!"

"It wasn't!" Sam protested, though his mouth kept twitching out of his control. "He could have really gotten hurt…"

Dean just laughed harder. "Oh, God, that was good."

"He fell on his _head_, Dean!"

"Stop, stop. You're just making it funnier!"

"You're cruel, Dean."

Dean just kept laughing.

XXX

It was another two hours before anything else of interest happened. During that time, half the books on the shelves were set aside as useless, Dean fell into a fit of laughter four different times, Willow fell asleep using the giant book she was reading as a pillow, Kurama was called over by Giles to translate several passages written in the Makai language, five or six customers came to the door of the shop and wandered away, disappointed, upon seeing the "closed" sign on the door, and patience was wearing thin.

It was while Xander was out picking up pizzas for lunch—something _all_ of them had actually agreed upon—that someone actually spoke up. It was Kurama, and for some reason he sounded a little uneasy. "Sam, Dean?"

"Huh?" Sam asked, dragging himself out of a near-stupor and focusing bleary eyes on Kurama.

"What was your mother's maiden name?"

Sam just continued to watch him, bemused, and it was Dean who actually answered. "McCall. Mary McCall."

"And her mother…was she also named Mary?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Well, because…this book mentions your grandmother. And _her_ grandmother, and _her_ grandmother, and so on, going back nearly five hundred years."

"What? What's it say?" Dean asked, sounding bewildered.

"Well, it says that…um…they were also Seers. _All_ of them."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: I am _so sorry_ for the long wait! Really! But hey, look at the size of the chapter and…um…don't kill me! It was only two weeks, after all. And I know that none of you out there probably care overmuch about the wait between chapters, anyway, so it's probably just my own guilt talking here, but whatever.

Also, just to forewarn you: I'm not _quite_ sure where the next chapter is going, so be prepared for another wait. But don't worry, I love this story and you can expect the next update in no more that two weeks, probably less.

_Please review!_

- - - - - - - - - - -

"**A house without books is like a room without windows." –Unknown**

"**We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, some have weird names, and all are different colors. …but they all exist very nicely in the same box." –Unknown**


	11. Chapter 10: EVERYONE MUST DANCE!

AN: Just a quick note here to apologize for a) the amount of time it took to get this chapter out and b) the shortness of said chapter. But with finals coming up and everything I'm seriously considering ripping my own head off, and I just don't have a lot of time to write. I hate it, hate it, _hate it_, but what can ya do, right? Anyways, enjoy, now that it's finally turned up!

- - - - - - - - - -

**Los Angeles, California**

"So what do you know about this Sam Winchester?" Cordelia asked, tossing the last outfit into her suitcase and closing it with a flourish.

Angel, who had been watching her pack with amusement—it was always fun to guess how much clothing she'd bring—shrugged. "No more than you do, really. Like I said, Willow and I didn't talk long. All she said was that he had a vision-dream-thing last night, and that he's apparently had them before, since his brother knew right away exactly what had happened. He woke up the entire house screaming, so it must have been pretty horrible, but Willow didn't elaborate. She just said we'd talk when we get there."

"Sounds very hush-hush."

"No, I don't think so. It sounded more like she was distracted by something." Angel shrugged again, and looked at his watch. "Well, we'll find out eventually. Hey, are we driving there?"

"I don't care. Whatever you want."

"Well, I'd rather drive, then. We don't have much to spend on a plane and it's not that far. Which means that if we leave by seven we should get there before midnight."

Cordelia smiled slyly in Angel's direction. "Are you sure you don't want to take a plane?"

"Why does it matter? Just a few hours' difference, is all."

"Okay," Cordelia said in singsong.

"What's _with_ you?" Angel asked.

"Nothing, nothing, not a thing."

"You have tease-Angel-mercilessly face. Want to share?"

Cordelia's smile widened, but she obviously decided to take pity on him. "I just thought you'd want to get there as fast as possible…"

"But why…oh, come on, Cordy!" Angel groaned, exasperated, having finally figured it out. "I told you, Buffy and I…we're on hold, or on hiatus, or whatever you want to call it. Okay? There's no reason for me to rush to see her. It's _pointless_. So stop _harping_."

"Well, I didn't say it was reasonable."

"Cordelia! Stifle!"

Cordelia subsided, but not without a few chuckles.

"Stop it!"

XXX

**Sunnydale, California**

"_Your grandmother was a Seer, too."_

It had been almost half an hour since Kurama had let loose with this news, and Sam still couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the concept. He and Dean were now sitting on the floor in a corner of the shop, as far removed from the group as they could get without boring through the wall, but neither of them was speaking.

The others had gone on researching, but tactfully left the Winchesters alone, because even if the information didn't mean much to most of them, it obviously meant a lot to Sam and Dean.

"Well, I guess we know _why_ you have the visions," Dean said, breaking the silence at last.

Sam looked at him, and saw that he was sitting with his elbows resting on his crossed knees, his chin propped on the knuckles of one fist. It was a pose he only assumed when he was trying to work something out—usually his own thoughts. It was also deceptively casual—only Sam and sometimes John knew that it was anything but.

"They're genetic," Dean continued, taking no notice of Sam's assessment. "I mean, I guess they skip a generation or something, but…" He shook his head. "This is _unbelievable._ I wonder if Dad knows…"

Well, Sam knew how to respond to _that,_ at least. "If he does, he wouldn't be likely to tell us, now, would he?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but time had taught him not to bother defending John Winchester. Sam had made up his mind about the man long ago and that was it. "Well, doesn't matter anyway. At least we don't have to wonder anymore."

"Are you kidding me? This just brings up _more_ questions, even if it does answer one," Sam said distractedly. "When did it start? Why? Were there others? Are there others _now?_ Is that why Mom was killed? And what about _Jess_? Did _she_ have the same…I dunno…legacy, if that's what we're calling it now? And why don't _you_ have them? You're older…if it just skips a generation how did _I_ end up with it?" The list of questions went on and on in his mind, and Sam almost wished he had never found out any of this.

XXX

"Pizza call!"

As one, Willow, Buffy, and Tara all dropped their books with sighs of profound relief as Xander closed the door behind him and came to drop the two pizza boxes he held. Giles, too, put down his text, though he took much longer about it. Kurama didn't drop his at all—just came over and put a couple slices on a napkin and went back to sit by Hiei with his knows still practically glued to the pages. And Sam and Dean didn't emerge from the corner at all.

"Are you guys gonna eat or what?" Xander called out, then winced when Willow slapped him on the arm.

"Leave them alone," she whispered.

"Why? What…?"

Willow shook her head. "Later."

XXX

"You hungry? Want some pizza?"

Dean's voice seemed to be coming from very far away, and even after Sam managed to hear the words, it took him a few moments to straighten them out in his mind and even longer to form a reply. "Uh…no. No, thanks." He didn't notice his own voice shaking. Dean did.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

Sam took longer to answer that time, and when he did he sounded altogether uncertain. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a headache. Or…the start of one, maybe."

"Oh. Need your pills?"

"They're back at Buffy's house."

Dean rolled his eyes and went for his pocket. "Honestly, what do you wake me for? Here."

Sam blinked, bemused, at the bottle that was thrust into his hand. "How—"

"Took them off the nightstand, genius."

"Oh…right…" Sam said vaguely, still staring at the bottle.

"Well, are you gonna take them?" Dean asked with a bite of impatience.

Sam stared at the pills for a long moment, and then tucked them into his own pocket. "No. It's not that bad. I'll take a couple if it starts getting worse."

"Okay, your choice. But you should eat something, anyway."

And before Sam could refuse, Dean was gone.

XXX

**Los Angeles, California**

"Okay, so we'll be back in a few days, if everything goes okay. You'll be able to hold things down?"

Wesley Wyndam—Pryce somehow managed to smile and look annoyed at the same time. "We're perfectly capable, Angel. We've worked by ourselves before."

"I know, I'm sorry. Just…making sure."

"It's _fine_, Angel. Get outta here," Charles Gunn said with a grin, tossing the vampire his coat.

"Okay, we're gone," Cordelia said, grabbing Angel's arm. "C'mon, you, the sooner we leave the sooner we'll get there," she added with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, my _God_!"

XXX

**Sunnydale, California**

Dean closed his book and dropped his head onto the table. "This is _hopeless_. I don't even know what I'm _looking_ for anymore."

Xander went for another slice of the now-stone-cold pizza. "Welcome to our world. Here, try this one."

Dean jumped as another book thudded onto the table in front of him. "Good God, man! How many books does Giles _have_?"

Xander shrugged. "I dunno, but seeing as I've been using 'em since my sophomore year in high school and I _still_ haven't found the end of the collection, I'm guessing a lot."

Dean opened his mouth to issue another complaint when Sam, sitting across from them, groaned softly. Dean looked just in time to see his brother reach up to rub his forehead. "Time for pills yet?" he asked, very casually.

Sam didn't seem to notice him speaking, and Dean felt the now-familiar worry forming in his stomach. "Sam?"

"Huh?" Sam mumbled intelligently.

"Do. You. Need. Your. Pills," Dean asked slowly.

"No, why would I?"

"Because you keep rubbing your head."

"I do?" Sam looked truly bewildered, but the expression was marred by the yawn he was trying to smother.

Dean shook his head. Sam had been like this for hours now—vague, distant, hardly _there_ at all, and most of all, _tired_. His skin was slightly paler than usual, and his eyes had dark circles under them, and he looked completely horrible. But there was no way to get him to take a break, let alone go back to the Summers' house and catch some z's.

Sometimes Dean cursed Winchester stubbornness—conveniently forgetting that it ran strongest in himself.

That wasn't the point, anyway.

XXX

An hour later, the clock struck eleven, the group had finished an average of five books each and turned up zilch, Sam was barely able to speak in coherent sentences, and Dean decided it was time to go.

Sam had been staring at the same page for twenty minutes, his eyes unmoving, and he didn't even notice when his brother closed his book and stood up. Dean gave him a long look, and then went to find Buffy.

He found her in the room that Giles had called the training room, going ten rounds with a punching bag. He leaned against the wall and watched for a moment, and found himself grudgingly impressed. For a tiny blonde Barbie-looking chick, she sure seemed to have some upper-body strength. The poor punching bag didn't stand a chance.

"Y'know, it's probably not healthy to have such a hatred for an inanimate object."

Buffy didn't flinch. She followed through with her punch, sending the bag swinging, and then turned. "Hi."

"Hey," Dean replied. He looked around the room and, mostly to cover the awkwardness, said idly, "Nice room."

"Oh, yeah. Giles put it together for me a while after we blew up the school library where I used to train."

That sounded like an interesting story, but Dean didn't really feel like getting into it right now. "Oh. Cool."

"So…did you want something?"

"Yeah…uh…I was just wondering if you guys minded calling it quits for tonight. Or at least move this to your house."

"Why?"

Dean paused at that, wracking his brain. "Well, isn't that Angel guy gonna be here soon?"

"Yeah, but I left a note saying where we were, so it's taken care of."

So that excuse was out the window. "Well, uh, I think we may have about reached the end of the books."

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, right. I don't think Giles' collection _ever_ ends. Come on, what's _really_ up?"

She was good. Damn. "Fine, so it's the only way I can get same to catch some sleep. He looks like hell and if we go back to your house and take the books with us I might have a chance of at least getting him to lie down on his bed and read instead of sitting in a crappy wooden chair. And if I can get him to lie down for _one second_ I _know_ he'll be out like a light. That good enough for you?"

Buffy just smiled, and Dean felt a flicker of irritation. _God, she's annoying…hot, though._

XXX

Dean had cause to curse the stubbornness in his own genes many more times before he got Sam back to the Summers home and settled in his temporary bed. Sam could barely talk at that point, but that didn't stop him from making feeble protests the entire walk back. Even the fact that everyone else was going with them didn't satisfy him—he saw right through it even as tired as he was.

And in between trying to deal with Sam's "lawyer tricks"—even though he'd never actually made it to law school, he was extremely skillful in the use of argument—Dean also had his brother's physical and mental well-being to worry about. The kid didn't seem to know what to do with himself. If Dean hadn't been guiding him he probably would have wandered off into Nevada or somewhere, and he reached up to rub his forehead repeatedly, then, when Dean dared comment, snapped that he did _not_ have a headache.

Then, when they finally got back, it took nearly ten minutes to get Sam into bed. Dean only won the fight after shoving a stack of books at Sam and snapping that he could research just as well from the bed as he could at a table.

And just as he'd predicted, Sam had barely opened one of the books before he was asleep.

XXX

Cordelia and Angel arrived a little before midnight. They let themselves in, silently, so not even Buffy knew that there was anyone in the house until the two walked into the kitchen, and stopped in surprise at finding it filled with people and books.

They stood awkwardly in the doorway, unnoticed, until Cordelia finally said, "What, we can't even get a polite hello? We've all become Neanderthals now?"

Buffy looked up quickly and, seeing the two of them, smiled—really _smiled_—for the first time. "Nah. Been there, done that." Then she looked at Angel, standing awkwardly a little behind Cordelia, and her smile faded a little and she resumed her serious expression. "Hi, Angel."

XXX

He looked normal enough, Dean thought. A little pale, maybe, but there was nothing to make him stand out as a vampire in a crowd. Long black coat, black pants, black shirt—nothing on but black—but that was common enough nowadays. Dean felt his doubt build—he was sure they had just been putting him on with the whole "vampire" thing.

His companion, however, Dean had no doubts about. That girl was _definitely_ psychic. Exactly what about her gave it away was hard to explain, but Dean didn't doubt for a second that here, at last, was someone like his brother.

Of course, Dean believed in such things. It was doubtful that most people would see Cordelia for what she was.

She wasn't bad-looking, either. _Really_ not bad-looking…

Better stay away from her, though—she and Sam could very well hit it off, after all.

"DEAN!"

Dean jumped, his musing shattered, and found that everyone in the room was watching him. "Huh?"

Willow assumed an exasperated expression that told Dean she'd been trying to get his attention. "I am _trying_ to introduce you to our friends. Cordelia, Angel, this is Dean Winchester."

Cordelia just gave a small wave, but Dean found himself shaking hands with Angel, and he also found himself instantly rethinking his first impression—that guy's hands were _cold_. Cold like _death_ cold.

Creepy.

XXX

Sam's waking was exceptionally slow. He was used to waking suddenly from a nightmare, but this time he hadn't dreamed at all, and conscious thought came slowly and sluggishly, and when it finally arrived it was fuzzy and fragmented and confusing.

He opened his eyes—after a mini-battle—and his vision was blurry. He tried blinking repeatedly, and that helped enough that he was able to read the luminous digital clock next to the bed. 12:01 A.M.

He lay there for a while, wondering what had woken him up, before it occurred to him that there were faint voices coming from downstairs. After another couple of minutes, he decided what he was going to do about it—get up.

_Good God, I have never been so _tired… Sam thought distantly as he stood up, wavered for a moment, then balanced against the nightstand. The odd thing, though, was the lack of any other feeling. He felt so…so _unreal_. The headache that had become business as usual in the last few days was gone along with his nightmares, and he felt like he was entirely separate from his own body. And all of the sadness, the worry, the fear, all the things he had been carrying around inside for months…were gone.

He wasn't at all used to this sort of detachment.

But it was possible that he liked it. It was nice not to be _un_happy for a change, even if what he was feeling right now couldn't exactly be labeled _happy._ Or…anything, really, for that matter.

When he stumbled into the kitchen a couple of minutes later—it had taken him that long just to get down the stairs, although he had no clue why—he found two extra people there—though it took him a head count and a lot of thought to come to that conclusion.

Dean noticed him first, being the big brother and all, and for some reason Sam couldn't figure out, Dean looked decidedly alarmed upon seeing him, and so did everyone else. "What're you doing here, Sam? You were out cold five minutes ago."

"Jus'…woke up, 's all. 'Lo, new people."

"Uh…are you okay?" the only girl Sam didn't recognize asked.

After a long moment, Sam was able to drag up a name. "Cordelia. Nice t' meet you…"

"Um…yeah, you too."

"Sam, what's up with you?" Dean asked, not moving from where he stood but looking ready to spring over the counter in the center of the room if necessary.

"Whaddya mean?" Sam asked, a little angrily. "'M fine."

"No, you're not. You're slurring, you can barely stand up, you're taking _forever_ to form complete sentences…"

"'M _not _slurring…feel _fine,"_ Sam interjected—and he did, it was true. But even in this state, he couldn't deny that maybe _something_ was wrong…

The thought was gone before he pinned it down, and he was left to repeat stupidly, "'M fine…"

He registered vaguely that Dean looked doubtful, and he stubbornly repeated, "I am! Really. My headache's gone and I feel better'n I have in a long time. I'm jus' a lil' tired…and…things're a lil' fuzzy…but 'm…'m good."

XXX

Dean saw it coming the instant he set eyes on Sam, even if he didn't fully realize it. His little brother looked _awful_. Much worse than he'd looked when he went to bed. There was no color to his skin—he was paler even than Angel—except for the shadows under his eyes, so darkly purple that they were nearly black. He slurred his words like a drunkard. He kept listing to the side, as if he was ready to topple over, and Dean unconsciously shifted to a position that would enable him to reach Sam quickly, should he fall.

And he seemed so _confused_. Usually, Sam could easily remember names, faces, dates, times, and just about everything else, most of them things that nobody really _needed_ to know in the first place. Now he had to think hard to remember the name of a chick he had been dying to meet. But he obviously wasn't lying when he said he felt fine—he really believed it. That was a matter for concern in itself, even without all the other things.

It must be admitted that it only dawned on Dean right then that his brother was seriously ill. It had been long, slow, in coming, but the signs had all been there since that dream that had sent them here in the first place. The headaches, the exhaustion, the paleness—Sam had been popping pills so often in the last few days that Dean had ceased noticing, and possibly Sam himself had, too.

But none of that mattered at the moment, because now it was obvious that Sam was sick. _Really_ sick.

These were the words that ran through his head the entire time he questioned Sam, and he barely paid any attention to the answers. He was just waiting for the inevitable collapse, and when it came, he didn't bother going around the counter—he went over it, and caught his brother just before he hit the ground.

At his touch, Sam started screaming.

XXX

Sam wasn't aware of time passing. He didn't see the people gathering around him. He didn't hear Dean's shouts, or the worried queries of everyone else. He couldn't think of anything but the pain.

And there was enough of it to consume his entire mind. It was worse than anything he had ever felt before—beyond words, beyond any semblance of description. And it didn't _end_. Just went on, and on, and on. Unconsciousness wouldn't come. He prayed for it, but it eluded him.

Like peace.

XXX

"What is going _on_?" Xander asked, not assisting Dean to restrain Sam.

"I dunno! God damnit, Sam, stop it!"

But for once, Sam didn't heed his big brother. In fact, he didn't seem to be _hearing_ any of them. It was all Dean and Xander could do to hold down his arms, and with Hiei and Kurama restraining his legs, all Sam could do was writhe frantically and scream, his voice growing slowly more hoarse as time passed.

And Dean was left to just pray that it ended soon.

XXX

Half an hour later, Sam's voice was gone, but the pain apparently wasn't. Sam kept thrashing and even if he couldn't yell anymore, he was able to make hoarse, strangled sounds that probably would have been screams.

Dean had given up trying to pull his brother out of it, and now he just concentrated on keeping his brother from hurting himself, and ignored the others, who were trying to figure out what to do—though not once did anyone bring up the idea of going to a doctor. Apparently _all_ of them avoided hospitals whenever possible.

Sam went still so suddenly that at first no one realized what had happened. Then Dean and Xander realized that the other man was no longer fighting them, and let go, cautiously. Kurama and Hiei followed suit, and when Sam didn't so much as twitch, Dean leaned carefully over him.

The first thing he saw was that Sam's chest was rising and falling rhythmically—he was breathing normally. Dean touched his wrist and found a strong, steady pulse, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "He's fine."

No one replied. When Dean turned to see why, he felt his heart skip a beat. They were all staring, wide-eyed and pale-faced, at Sam—well, except for Hiei, who was, as usual, completely expressionless, though his features seemed oddly tight, Angel, who also looked impassive, and Kurama, who looked sympathetic and over-the-top sad.

_Sympathetic? Sad? But why?_

With a feeling of dread he couldn't explain, Dean turned to look at his brother's face for the first time.

At first, he didn't see anything wrong. Sam's face was still pale, but not as deathly white as it had been, and he actually looked a little better than before. Then he saw that Sam's eyes were open—he wasn't unconscious after all.

Dean smiled. "Hey, there, bro…" He leaned further over to catch his brother's eye…and recoiled in horror.

Sam's eyes _were_ open, but they didn't react at all as Dean blocked the brightness from the overhead light. In fact, Sam didn't so much as blink. He just kept staring in the same exact direction he had been before. There was no life in his face now.

And no recognition, either.

Dean's baby brother didn't know him.

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Well, all I can say is, this is what happens with you try to write with the Berlin Wall between you and your muse: _you go completely insane!_ I am a shell! I have no opinion anymore! I don't know if I should be singing a hallelujah chorus for the thing or whacking it frantically with a cannoli!

So, here comes the part where I need the help of you readers: I need you all to go to the corner and press that nice, inviting purple button, and be more honest with me than you've ever been before. Did it suck? Should I scrap it? Or was it good and should I write a song for it? _I want honesty! Not flattery! Honesty! _I mean, compliments are good, yeah, but only if they're what you really think!

So…share!

- - - - - - - - - -

"**The world is made of light and dark. You can't have one without the other, 'cause darkness is half of everything. Kinda makes you wonder…why we're scared of the dark." _–_King Mickey, _Kingdom Hearts II_**

"**There's moments in your life that make you, that set the course for who you're gonna be. Sometimes, they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes…they're not." –Whistler, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_**

"**Man is harder than iron, stronger than stone, and more fragile than a rose." –Turkish proverb**

**"With the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes." –William Shakespeare**

**"I am sworn brother, sweet, to grim necessity, and he and I will keep a league till death." –William Shakespeare**


	12. Chapter 11: A Little Less Talk

Anonymous / Mediaminer Reviewer(s):

**hitomibishop**: Thanks so much for your review! Ya know, I'm sorta surprised at the feedback I'm getting about this chapter…they're rather mixed, to say the least. But they're honest, at least! I like honest. And you made me feel a lot better, too, saying all that nice stuff. Oh, and as for your suggestion about Koenma—yes, I think I may put him in for a chapter. But he probably won't actually be IN Sunnydale. Don't worry, though—Dean WILL get to see him for what he is. **grin**

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, so I meant for this chapter to be long and involved and much less boring. I wanted it to cover a lot of material and put us a lot closer to the end. But…I accomplished none of that. I've hardly written at all this week and this is probably the last chance I'll get to have internet access for the next week or so, so I decided to just put the chapter up as is and screw the consequences. So, there is your explanation for the pathetic-ness of this chapter. And…that's it.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dean Winchester prided himself on being a very even-mined person. You had to be, when you lived so dangerously. He had _always_ managed to keep his cool, even when his family or his own life were on the line.

He was now dangerously close to falling apart.

Sam had been in danger before, hundreds of times in the past twenty-two years. He had broken bones, he had had concussions, he had been hospitalized repeatedly in his short life.

This was somehow worse. In fact, Dean was sure that this, right now, was the worst thing that had ever happened, in the world. Sam was completely unresponsive to his brother, and everything else. He didn't move, he didn't blink, he didn't do anything at all, and Dean had no idea how to get him back to himself.

Still, the Winchester men hadn't been trained to harshly for nothing. Even if he was losing it inside, on the outside, he stayed calm. Such was the Winchester way.

XXX

"All right, let's get him back to the couch," Dean said, and he was proud that his voice didn't shake. "I don't want to try to get him up the stairs." He suited action to words, and leaned over to take one of Sam's arms. A smaller hand reached down and took the other, and when Dean looked up, he found that he still had room for surprise when he saw that it was Hiei helping him.

His certainty that the world was ending intensified as Hiei actually spoke to him, without any hint of scorn or sarcasm. "What is it you say…on three?"

Dean nodded, and a couple of seconds later the two of them heaved Sam up. To Dean's surprise, Sam was completely steady on his feet, and as Dean and Hiei started to half-carry him toward the living room, they found it unnecessary. Sam walked easily on his own.

He didn't seem to have a clue where he was going, though, so Dean took his arm again and steered him carefully toward the living room. For all the notice Sam took of him, though, Dean might as well have been invisible.

Once the youngest Winchester was settled on the couch—he lay there like some sort of life-sized doll—Dean carefully rebuilt and refortified all of his emotional walls, before turning to face the rest of the group.

They were all gathered in a knot in the corner of the room, looking from him to Sam like they were watching a tennis match. When he turned, they all snapped to attention and focused on him, a little guiltily.

He looked at them, and they looked at him, and Dean realized he had no idea what to say. Oh, he knew what he _wanted_ to say, but this wasn't like when he and Sam and Dad all worked together. His thoughts had no meaning here—_they_ had been working with each other, presumably for years, and none of _them_ knew _him_. He couldn't expect his orders to be followed here.

"All right, as of now, we're dropping everything until we figure out what's happening to my brother."

But apparently his mind and his mouth were in total disagreement, as usual.

"Of course."

Dean's eyes snapped to the speaker, and he saw that Giles was still watching Sam, looking troubled.

"Looks like we're in for another sleepless night," Buffy said, looking at her watch.

"As was your conception," Willow replied.

Buffy sighed. "I'll go make some coffee."

"As was your conception."

Buffy rolled her eyes and left, and as she did, Giles said, "So I assume that the question, 'Do you want to move in here?' would be rhetorical."

Dean nodded firmly, and sat down in a chair across from the couch as Xander, Kurama and Hiei went to get the books. Meanwhile, Giles went and took the other chair, and looked at Sam. "This is undoubtedly the strangest thing I've ever seen. I've never heard of anything like it. Has anything like this ever happened to him before?"

Dean shook his head. "No. We've been through some weird things, but never like this."

"Well, one thing is certain," Willow said as the three guys came back in with their arms full. "Whatever's wrong with him, it's magical."

"Yes, there is no medical condition like this that I know of," Kurama said, taking a seat on the floor.

"And he's heard of them all," Hiei added as he sat down next to Kurama and leaned back against the wall.

"Well, it was sort of obvious anyway," Xander said. "Something this freaky can only be magical."

"On behalf of all Wicca, hey!"

Dean looked over at Willow. "You're a _witch_?"

"No, a Wicca. It's different," Tara replied. "I'm one, too."

But by now, Dean was unable to muster up anything beyond a tiny bit of surprise. He just said. "Oh. Cool. So, it's magical. That's obvious. But if no one has ever seen it, how do we know what to do about it?"

"I have," Angel said softly, and all eyes shifted to him.

"What're you talking about? Where've you seen this?" Cordelia asked.

"It happened to you," Angel said simply. When Cordelia looked baffled, he went on to explain. "Remember that time a couple years ago when that thing worked mojo on you…"

"Don't say mojo."

"And it put you in this constant vision and it went on for like a day. You screamed for a while but eventually you went quiet and looked just like that."

"So what you're saying is that Sam's having one big vision?" Dean asked skeptically.

Angel shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds to me like your brother's visions are different than Cordy's. But the point is, Cordelia came out of it. Your brother will, too."

Buffy came back in then. "Coffee's on the stove. Just get it when you want it. Please don't tell me we have to start again."

Giles smiled at the unfeigned horror in her voice. "No. I don't think so. This time, we know what we're looking for. I think we should focus on the Black Chronicles for now—it details most known demonic spells and their history."

And just like that, Dean found himself holding yet another book. The only difference was, this time he planned to throw himself into the research, heart and soul.

_We're gonna help you, Sammy_.

XXX

**Somewhere Not In Sunnydale**

The demon withdrew from the human's mind with a sigh of satisfaction. _That_ had proved easier than expected. All humans were pathetic, of course, but the demon had thought he'd get _some_ sort of fight. He always tended to forget how weak mere humans really were…

Still, this one _did_ have power, more than the last one the demon had used…so long ago. Definitely more than the others he had discarded already.

With this one, he could achieve his goal at last.

The first stages were complete now. Samuel Winchester's mind was shut down, except for the useful parts. The demon had allowed the thing to keep its ability to walk, to hear, to see, and of course, to kill. But these things were totally under the demon's control, and of no threat.

Its ability to know others of its kind, to recognize them, to think for itself, to speak, all were taken away entirely. Those things were useless to the demon, after all.

Soon, the demon would prepare the full possession, and then…he could fulfill his mission.

There was, however, one small problem. It was only to be expected, and the demon had dealt with such problems before.

So, he left the human alone for a time, and turned his mind to how he would dispose of Samuel Winchester's friends…

XXX

**Sunnydale, California**

"Hey."

Buffy turned so fast that the coffee she had in her hand nearly went flying across the room. With an undignified yelp, she fumbled with it and barely managed to set it down on the counter before it spilled. "God, Angel, why do you _do_ that?"

Angel shrugged. "Thought you'd hear me."

"You know you're the only one who can sneak up on me."

Angel nodded, acknowledging the accuracy of this, and stepped further into the room. "So you're avoiding the work, huh?"

Buffy sighed, and resigned herself to the awkwardness that was always there when she and Angel talked. "Yeah. Well, you know I hate research. Plus I suck at it. Luckily I can pretty much make a living fetching the coffee. Want some?"

Angel shook his head. "So what do you think of all this?"

The sudden question caught Buffy off guard. "All what?"

"You know, about those Winchester guys, and those two demons."

"Hey, how'd you know about that?"

"Vampire."

"Right."

"So…?" Angel asked, when Buffy didn't answer his question. "What do you think of them?"

"Why do you care?" Buffy snapped, a lot more harshly than she'd intended.

Angel, though, was unruffled. In fact, he smiled a little. "You hate Dean."

"What? I do not hate him! He's here to help, he knows how to fight, he seems like a good brother…"

"You hate him a _lot_."

Buffy sighed. "It's not completely obvious, is it?"

"It's pretty palpable, yeah. But if it's any help, you bug him too."

"That's _such_ a consolation. You have no idea. How do you know this, anyway?"

"Well, he's the only one I haven't seen you say a word to, and you keep glaring at him when you think no one's looking.

"I…"

"So what's the matter with him?"

Buffy shrugged. "Nothing big, I guess. It's just…he's so…he has no respect for…for any of us," she finished somewhat lamely.

Angel fixed her with that creepy, penetrating gaze he was so fond of. "I think you're angry because you don't think he respects you enough."

Buffy's face went red with anger, and a little surprise. Angel wasn't usually so _harsh_.

He must have realized that, too. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. But…well, it's sort of true that you're used to having authority over your friends. Maybe the fact that Dean doesn't take orders from you as well as everyone else does is what's making you feel this way toward him. At least, subconsciously."

"He's so _arrogant_, though!" Buffy burst out, as if the two tied directly together. "I mean, did you _hear_ the way he was telling us to drop everything earlier?"

"Oh, come on, Buffy. The man is looking at maybe losing his brother. A little impatience is perfectly understandable."

"We'll help Sam. We've solved bigger things than this before."

"But he doesn't know that. And not everyone is going to have complete faith in you the second they meet you."

"Look, what do you want from me?" Buffy asked angrily, barely remembering to keep her voice down. "You're not a part of my life anymore. You don't get to tell me how to live it."

XXX

"Ooh, nice."

"Shut up, she'll hear you!"

"Nah. I slipped some Kryptonite into the coffee pot, so we're good."

"Quiet, Xander!"

"This is wrong, ya know."

"Says the most intruding girl ever to grace Sunnydale High School."

"You know, I was unaware that none of you had grown up yet. I thought graduating high school implied _some_ sense of maturity."

"Oh, come on, Giles, you know you're curious."

"I most certainly am not."

"So how long is this gonna go on?" Dean asked, barely looking up from his book.

Giles shrugged. "They're extraordinarily fascinated with Buffy's love life. They could be crouched there forever."

"Shh!"

XXX

"So what are the odds that they're all eavesdropping on us?" Angel asked, after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Willow and Tara and Xander will be. Probably Anya and Cordelia, too. Giles is too British. Kurama seemed too polite and I don't think Hiei does anything Kurama doesn't want him to do. And Dean doesn't care."

Angel sighed heavily and said, "Well, they won't get anything more, because you're right, Buffy. I walked out on you, and I shouldn't pass judgment on your life, so…I won't. From now on it's strictly business between us. I promise." He smiled reassuringly as Buffy and then turned to go back to the living room.

"Angel, wait."

"No, it's all right, Buffy. Really. We should get back in there anyway." Then he added, quietly, "I really missed you, by the way." And then he was gone.

His steps had faded away before Buffy replied. "I missed you, too."

XXX

Dean…was distracted. It wasn't exactly a new thing—he could seldom keep his mind on research in the best of times, mostly because he despised any kind of intellectual pursuit. But this time it was different. Dean wasn't distracted because he was bored—he was distracted because he was scared.

Fear wasn't a new feeling, either, but he had pushed it away, repressed it, for so long that he had forgotten what it _felt_ like. Now he was remembering. Fear is a ceaseless gnawing in your gut. Fear is complete and utter nausea. Fear is never-ending "what if" questions that make you want to scream.

And most of all, fear is _anger_.

XXX

Dean was not used to being the one who turned up information. When he and Sam and John researched together, it was usually Sam who cracked the mystery, or sometimes John. Dean just wasn't very good at stuff like that. But maybe the fact that his brother's very existence might have been on the line was working for him, because it took barely an hour before he hit paydirt.

Half the group, including Buffy, Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya, had begun to doze, but that was okay, because the one who really seemed to _know _things—and the one that Dean trusted even if he couldn't say why—was still doggedly going over his books.

"Hey, Giles, do you have…uh…" He checked the book he already had again. "Volume Seven of the Black Chronicles?"

Giles blinked slowly—he must have been more tired than he seemed—and checked the stack of books next to him. "Yes, here. Did you find something?"

"I might have…" Dean replied vaguely, thumbing through the pages—or trying to. He hadn't noticed before that his hands were trembling so badly that he could barely hold anything.

Finally, Giles held out a hand and took the book gently away from him. "Now, what are we looking for?"

Dean didn't bother hiding his relief as he went back and sat down again. His legs felt too shaky to hold him at the moment, anyway. "A Latin section, no title, but it describes Sam's…condition…perfectly."

"You read Latin?"

"Since I was twelve, Jeeves."

"Oh, wonderful, yet another delightful nickname. I've never felt so privileged. Okay, here." Dean sensed Kurama looking over at them, and probably Hiei was too, and Angel and Cordelia came over to stand next to him, but his focus was entirely on Giles, who was reading silently.

"Well, you were right, Dean," he said eventually. "These books are finally good for something. Not to say that they're ever _useless_, but I must admit that tonight they've been rather pointless…"

"Hitting the fast-forward button here, old man."

So, Giles read the entire passage word for word, and for once, Dean actually paid attention.

The section was mostly about an incident that had occurred somewhere around the 12th century, when a woman—name unpronounceable—had apparently discovered that she had dreams—_vision_ dreams. And aside from being considered sacrilegious and an excellent reason for some burnage at the stake, it was also enough to drive some people insane, 'cause that chick was freakin' _unhinged_.

Jump ahead six or seven months. Crazy Lady is still having visions, to the shame of her family and the fury of the Church. No one could decide what to do with her. Her insistence that she _wanted_ to be good, that she did not _want_ the visions, that they simply wouldn't stop plaguing her, and the Church's practice of "tolerance"—it all added up to confusion/ So the Seer was simply confined to her family's estate, hidden from the world, and kept under meticulous, constant supervision.

It was soon after the decision was made that the Seer had another dream—and this one was apparently different from the others, because it was then that she began to "lose herself" as the book put it.

She became sort of half in the real world and half in her own. She barely ever spoke and as time passed she got paler, and lost weight, and became ever more distant.

Exactly three days after this began, the whole thing climaxed. The book called it a "seizure" for lack of a better word. And then it went on to recreate the entire scene from that night in the Summers kitchen, from Sam's collapse to his current state.

"So what do we do about it?" Dean demanded. "Does it continue the story?"

Giles simply sent him a quelling look and he fell silent. Then the middle-aged man cleared his throat a little and went on:

A small group of priests was sent to "heal" the Seer, _and_ to guard her. They lugged their Bibles and their crosses and spent a day and a night in serious prayer time.

It all proved pointless. The next night, the Seer got up out of her bed and walked calmly out of her room, then out of her house, then off her property. Any attempts to restrain her proved futile, with people ending up dead, maimed, or unconscious with no idea of how it had happened. (Though _someone_ must have managed to follow her, if it was all available for reading nine centuries later in Sunnydale, California.)

Well, anyway, the Seer headed for the cemetery of the primitive city she lived in. The story went that once there, she cleared it of stragglers and loiterers with a single command, and then she simply stood there, alone, as if waiting.

What she was waiting _for _became clear at midnight exactly. It was at that moment that a wall of complete, unfiltered, dark _power_ sprang up around her. It began by enveloping her body…and then it spread.

By the next morning, the city and the surrounding countryside were a mere memory.

And of the Seer…nothing remained.

XXX

Giles closed the book, and silence ensued. Seriously, a group of twelve people has never been so silent. Then, suddenly, Dean said, "Demonic possession. Has to be. That's the only thing that could give the girl that much power, _and_ cause her to slaughter an entire city."

Willow had been quite busy making a card tower from a pack she'd found in a table drawer, and now she proceeded to knock the whole thing down as she spoke. "Well, it would have to be a demon of enormous power, to do it so easily, right, Giles?"

"Mm…" Giles said, hardly seeming to hear her.

"Okay, so let's go over this," Angel said, beginning to pace slowly back and forth across the room. "Dean, when exactly did all this start?"

"Uh…when we met Hiei and those guys, I think. Two days ago." _God, was it really only two days…?_

"And how did you come to meet them?"

"We headed for Japan a few days after Sam had a vision that we had to go find a…a demon—Hiei—in Tokyo."

If Hiei was at all surprised that _he_ had caused them all to meet, he was too careful to show it.

"And when you met him…what happened?"

So, Dean described it, though he had no idea what the point was.

"You said something earlier about Sam acting strange lately. When did _that_ start?" Angel asked.

Dean thought back, trying to recall the last few days clearly. "I guess right after the vision. He had these headaches, but he didn't seem to realize he had them. I gave him meds, and he did take them, but he seemed so…distant. Confused, a lot of the time."

"So, visions, speed, headaches, confusion, and he looked sick earlier. And now he's pretty much in a waking coma, and we're assuming it's possession. That's where we are, right?"

"…Good Lord."

"Oh, no," Willow said, closing her eyes. Dean jumped—he hadn't realized the others had woken up.

"What's up, Giles?" Tara asked.

Instead of replying, Giles got up out of his chair and went over to one of the book stacks. After a moment of rummaging, he stood up and began to flip rather frantically through the pages.

"Giles, what…?" Xander asked, looking a little apprehensive, as the Watcher finally found what he was looking for.

It didn't take very long for him to finish reading, luckily, and within ten minutes he'd closed the book with another murmur of "Good Lord…"

"Giles, speak!" Buffy commanded in clipped tones. "What's going on?"

"We've asked that question_ way_ too many times lately," Dean muttered.

Giles turned back to them, and he looked, if possible, more serious than before. "I've been absolutely _remiss_," he said quietly. "The answer to _everything_…I had it all along. I must've been through this book fifty times, but I only just remembered."

"So tell us what's causing this, already!" Hiei snapped impatiently, apparently driven at last to an actual display of his feelings.

"Yes, I think I do. It _is_ a possession, but not exactly a normal one." Giles took off his glasses and wiped them furiously, then imitated Angel and began to pace, though there wasn't much space in the room at the moment. "Now, this demon has no name. Or, rather, it has too many to count," he said, reminding Dean of some kind of professor. "It has existed for…millennia. So long that no one has ever been able to trace its exact origins. It has no corporeal form, and so its power lies in using others. Humans. It can harness the untapped power that exists in humans with…certain special abilities, and use that power to its own ends."

"Which are…?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, the usual. World destruction. End to humanity. That sort of thing. And it achieves this through slow but complete possession of its chosen victim. It's been doing this since…well, for a very long time, obviously. And every time a possession happens, it goes _exactly_ the same way…with one difference. It gains strength each time."

"That sounds happy," Anya chirped.

"Oh, yeah, sounds terrif," Willow said. "And…dare I ask what happened _last_ time?"

Giles didn't have to check his books that time. "The attack happened about four hundred years ago in a country called Daixong."

"Um…weird name, never heard of it," Dean said.

"You won't have. It no longer exists."

"…Oh."

"Yes. It wasn't a _large_ country, but…well, you see my point. We could be in deep trouble here."

"Okay. So," Buffy said. "We need a game plan. Now what do we _know_?"

Cordelia answered that one. "Basically, we know _when_ this is gonna happen—tomorrow—and we know _where_ it's gonna happen—the cemetery, no surprise there—and we know a little of _what's_ gonna happen—but we don't know details…stupid vague little history books…"

Dean spoke up then. "Is…is there any record of those possessed people coming out of it unscathed?" he asked quietly, voice carefully controlled.

No one answered for a moment. Then Kurama spoke, his voice very gentle…and very sad. "We'll find a way, Dean."

Dean looked at him, and then at everyone else, and finally at Sam, who was staring at the ceiling, unblinking and unaware of anything going on around him, and everyone pretended not to notice when he took a quick swipe at his eyes. Then he sighed heavily and stood up. "I'm gonna need a beer. This coffee is _not_ gonna cut it."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Well? What'd ya think? If the stuff about the demon was kinda vague and blurred-like, I'm sorry. I couldn't really think of how to _explain_ what was on my mind until it actually happens. But don't worry, it should become clear in the next chapter. The bad news: as of tomorrow morning at 7:00 I am deprived of internet access until around June 5. **sigh** But I'll work my butt off on the chapter while I'm gone! Promise!

- - - - - - - - - -

"**Bottom line is, even if you see 'em comin', you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we? Helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come, you can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are." –Whistler, Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

"**Strength is great and Power strikes fear into heroes and villains alike, but someone who follows their heart, putting their loved ones first, damning the consequences, and even themselves in the process... Believe me, those people, they're worth payin' attention to." –Whistler, Outside Humanity by Drake Roberts**

"**Knowledge is power…and….I think…we've only begun to understand ours." –Kellen Knight-Mage, _To Light a Candle_**

"**From the eternal sea he rises,**

**Creating armies on either shore,**

**Turning man against his brother**

**Until man exists no more."**

_**-The Omen**_


	13. Chapter 12: PICKLES AN' EGGS!

AN: Okay, so I meant to have this chapter done by the time I got home, and to have it up yesterday, but alas…I picked up _The Da Vinci Code_. So, needless to say, I got a little behind. But that doesn't matter, because I got it done today and it's up now, so…enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - -

Somehow, during the next hours, the large group split off at random into several smaller parties. The idea seemed to be that they could all think individually and then gather to form a plan…though no one actually _said _that. Kurama and Hiei went to the porch again. Buffy, Tara, Willow, Xander, Anya and Giles moved into the kitchen and lugged a few books with them. Angel and Cordelia stayed in the living room, but relocated to the corner farthest from Dean and talked in whispers. It had been done quickly, efficiently, and silently.

Dean had been acutely aware of every movement of every person, but he had shoved the thoughts of this aside, and turned his mind instead to how he was going to help his brother.

XXX

"This…bites," Hiei said unhappily, tracing random patterns into the wood of the porch swing.

Kurama didn't bother questioning his choice of words—his love was weird, and that was all there was to it. He just slipped an arm around Hiei, and stayed quiet.

In truth, he wasn't all that surprised at Hiei's unhappiness over this, or by the fact that the little fire demon allowed the feeling to show. He may have put up a hard exterior, but right now it was different. Right now it was just the two of them, and Hiei freely displayed his emotions under those conditions—most of the time, anyway.

"I like him, too," Hiei continued. "He was nice to me. To _us_. And _about_ us. And even if Dean _does _have a stupid name and will never trust us…he never said anything really bad, either. They don't deserve this."

Kurama's arm tightened as he reflected on how much Hiei had changed since his involvement with the Reikai Tentei and Kurama himself. Just a few years ago, the spitfire half-breed wouldn't have given a damn about anyone else's problems unless they related to him directly or there was something to be gained.

And now here he was, looking just downright depressed over Sam Winchester's present…situation.

The powers of love and friendship really can be astounding… 

"What are we going to do, fox?"

Kurama sighed, and put his other arm around Hiei, turning the half-hug into a full one. "I don't know, love. But we have to think of something."

Hiei smirked, and a bit of his old Hiei-ness showed through again—the good part of the old Hiei. "So get brainstorming. You _are_ the brains here, aren't you?"

XXX

Giles closed his book, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. _I'm getting too old for this, _he thought regretfully, fighting the urge to get up and look in on the lithe group in the living room—again.

Instead, he got up and started a new pot. _It's astonishing how quickly we go through coffee here_, he thought idly.

As he filled the pot with water, he looked around at the crowd that had decided to join him in the kitchen. Remarkably, they were all still awake, though most of them looked rather droopy of eye.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the sleep deprivation, or just a need for caffeine, but Giles suddenly felt quite proud of his "team." Being barely in their twenties, they got on his nerves quite often, of course, but that didn't really seem to matter much right now, when they were all working so hard on virtually no sleep. It showed that even if they complained relentlessly, they'd never actually desert the cause. They were good people, one and all.

_Good Heavens, I'm getting sappy in my old age. I should do something about that._

XXX

"I just feel so bad for him," Cordelia said quietly, glancing over at Dean, who was sitting cross-legged in the biggest armchair in the room, staring sightlessly at Sam, who was in turn staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Dean didn't seem to be thinking at all, much less coming up brilliant way to get them all out of this, but Cordelia felt no urge to try and get his attention. All she felt was a deep, sad sympathy.

"I know," Angel replied, and Cordelia had to think for a moment to figure out what he was agreeing with. "And Sam, too. If he's aware of what's going on, and he's trapped inside…it's gonna be as bad for him as it will be for us, maybe worse." Seeing the expression on Cordelia's face, he smiled a little. "Don't worry, we'll think of something."

Cordelia sighed. "Yeah. I just wish I could have met him before…this."

Something in her voice reminded Angel that Sam was the only living person known to the two of them who had the same ability as Cordelia. He realized right then that though Cordelia had seemed perfectly calm all day, it had actually probably been the exact opposite. And now the chance to meet someone like herself had been cruelly snatched away—

_No. Stop it. It's _not_ over. We can still save the day, like we always do._

The only problem was, "saving the day" had been getting just a little harder lately.

XXX

**The Spirit World**

Prince Koenma of the Reikai was frazzled.

Actually, frazzled was much to mild a term. So were "annoyed," "unhappy," and "at the end of the proverbial rope."

"OGRE!" he shouted, in the squeakish voice that went with the toddler body he stayed in when there was no need to make an impression. He slammed open the door to his office and skidded in at _almost_ a full run—even in times of crisis, the heir to the rule of the Spirit Realms rarely _ran_.

"Yes, Koenma, sir?" the tough, intimidating—but actually quite pathetic, if you asked Koenma—blue ogre, George, inquired in his deep voice from a far corner. "Is something the matter, sir?"

"'Is something the matter, sir?'" Koenma mocked, striding to his desk in a way that would have been a lot more impressive if he had been taller than three feet. "Is something the _matter?_ Oh, no, just the whole dam world's falling apart! And of course it's me who has to deal with it…stupid useless staff…"

Koenma continued muttering as he pawed through his desk, now ignoring the ogre he had screeched so alarmingly at moments ago. Finally, he pulled a small object out of one of the drawers and left the room again, this time through a set of doors behind and to the right of his desk.

Curious now, George followed Koenma into the hall that led to the Record Rooms. Koenma apparently didn't have any objection, because he didn't say anything about it.

George had expected them to go through at least a few rooms and labyrinthine corridors before reaching their destination, but in fact they reached the room fairly quickly.

It was a room like any other at the palace—off-white tile, immaculate floors and cold white walls, altogether uninviting to newcomers. File cabinets stretched from floor to about halfway to the ceiling against every wall, each bearing a different year. The cabinet directly to the left of the door through which the two came was marked 2000, and the cabinets circled the room—leaving a space for another door on the far side—ending in the year 2500 on the right. At the moment, most of these cabinets were empty, of course.

Koenma went to the 2006 files, and looked impatiently at George, who quickly went over, took the key Koenma was holding, opened the top drawer—January—and took out all the files. Koenma say down on the floor and began flipping, whole George looked on silently.

About ten minutes later, Koenma stood again, teetering under the weight of all the files, and George took them, put them away, and went to the February files, and once again Koenma sat down to look them over.

It continued this way through March, April, and the present month. Neither Koenma or the ogre said a word until the May file was safely locked away. Then Koenma turned and looked up at the ogre, craning his neck.

"George," he said seriously, and George felt a jolt of alarm—Koenma _never_ used his real name. "We could be in serious trouble."

XXX

**Tokyo**

"What is the _matter_ with you, Kuwabara?" Yusuke Urameshi asked irritably as his best friend jumped up yet again and crossed the living room to the window. "You've been up since three this morning! Can't you just sit down and watch TV? Or _sleep_?"

Kuwabara sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass windowpane, trying to calm his nausea. He had been feeling this way since late last night, and he couldn't understand why. He hadn't slept a wink, and now he couldn't sit down, though he should have been exhausted.

"Something's wrong, Urameshi," Kuwabara murmured, not really sure where the words came from.

"What?" Yusuke asked, joining Kuwabara at the window. Instead of looking out, though, he turned Kuwabara around and looked at him carefully. "What's up?"

Kuwabara pulled back and leaned against the wall. "I dunno. I just have a bad feeling. We need to call Kurama."

XXX

**The Spirit World**

Koenma was back at his desk, filling out reports, when Yusuke came stomping in, followed by Kuwabara. Koenma jumped in surprise—he had _not_ been warned about their arrival.

"How did you…?"

Yusuke cut him off by slamming his hands down on the desk and scattering papers everywhere. This was one of his favorite methods of getting Koenma's attention. "We walked past your 'security,' that's how. Why won't you see us? Or even _talk_ to us?"

"I…I don't know what you…"

"Oh, save it. I've been trying to contact you for _weeks_, and not one of these guys would put me through. _Why_?"

Koenma sighed and put down his stamp and ink pad, then straightened the papers left on his desk, before turning his attention to Yusuke and Kuwabara. "Yusuke, hard as it may be to believe, I was _not_ ignoring you. I never even told them not to put you through. I've actually been intending to call you."

Yusuke seemed to deflate them, and he finally stepped back from the desk. "Oh. Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Kuwabara, sit down before you fall down," Koenma said, looking over at the other man, who was still standing by the door. "Now what's this all about, you two?"

"Why don't you tell us why you've been incommunicado for so long?" Yusuke said firmly.

Koenma sighed. "Yusuke, there's no conspiracy here. I've just been over-the-top, run-off-my-feet, actually _working_, busy."

"So nothing's wrong?" Yusuke asked uncertainly.

Koenma diverted his gaze a little. "Um…no, nothing."

"Yeah, well, we talked to Kurama before we came here, and _he's _saying something a little different."

Koenma started guiltily. "You…you did?" Yusuke nodded. "Damn. I was hoping you would talk to me first."

"Have you been listening?" Yusuke asked loudly. "We've been _trying_ to talk to you. You…"

"Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. So…what did Kurama tell you?"

"That something is wrong and to talk to you before calling him back."

"That's it?" Koenma asked. Yusuke nodded again. "All right. Well, I didn't think it was that big a deal before, which is why I didn't bring you into the equation sooner, but…I guess it's time we talked."

XXX

**Sunnydale**

Some time after midnight, Dean, Angel, Cordelia, Giles, Buffy, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Kurama and Hiei converged in the living room again. Dean was the only one who didn't move, and everyone gathered around his chair. He probably wouldn't have noticed if Angel's body hadn't blocked his view of Sam. As it was, this was what happened, and Dean snapped to, though he didn't seem too alarmed at not being able to see Sam. He just glanced up and said, "We need to try and keep him from leaving."

Cordelia, for one, was rather surprised. Dean had apparently been thinking—a lot—when he had seemed completely casual. But Dean was still talking, so she dismissed the thought.

"If we can get the demon out of him before tomorrow—er, tonight—maybe we can prevent this whole thing."

"But don't exorcisms…uh…hurt?" Buffy asked. In response to all the raised brows, she said, "What? I know things."

"Yeah, it could hurt him…but this thing—whatever it is—will do a lot worse," Dean said. "Giles, do you have any exorcisms? Wait, what am I saying, of _course_ you do…"

Giles looked slightly uncomfortably. "Actually, I don't."

"You don't what? Have an exorcism book? Seriously?"

Giles looked a little ashamed. "I never thought anything like this would happen…"

"So what do we do now?" Anya asked.

As if on cue, Dean got up and left the room, without a word. He came back in less than a minute with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Without a word he opened the bag and started digging around until he pulled out a small, leather-bound, well-work book, and also a bottle of holy water.

"Knew I brought it with me. Here, Giles, you use that…"

Giles looked in confusion at the bottle in his hand. "But what are we…?"

"Exorcism, weren't you listening?"

Buffy bristled. "Hey, don't talk to him like that—"

"It's quite all right, Buffy. Yes, I heard you before, but…well, never mind. Let's get on with it. I confess that I've never partaken in an exorcism before. What do we do?"

Dean shrugged. "It's easy enough in theory. You've used holy water before, I'm sure, doing what you do and all. Just toss some on him and…and um…ignore it if it burns him…" The elder Winchester looked pained, but he went on. "And the rest of you just get as far back as you can, 'cause there's a good chance he'll start thrashing around and he could do some serious damage. Come to think of it, we should probably move all the furniture and put him on the floor so he has plenty of room…"

In a few minutes, the room was rearranged to Dean's satisfaction, and Kurama and Hiei had moved Sam carefully to the floor. Dean had tried to ignore the way Sam's head lolled lifelessly to the side, and how he didn't react at all as they lifted him.

Once everything was right, Dean made sure Sam had plenty of room to move, and that it was unlikely he would hurt himself, then nodded at Giles, who uncapped the holy water. Then he opened the book—it went immediately to the right page, having been marked long ago—and began the spell.

XXX

Someone was shaking him.

"Dean?"

He mumbled something incoherent and turned his head to the side.

"Dean, are you all right?"

Shake. Mumble. Shake.

"Dean."

Another shake, and Dean finally opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that he was on the floor, with a crowd of people leaning over him. The next thing he noticed was that he was the _only_ one on the floor—Sam had been moved back to the couch. The room had been put back in order as well. Dean sat up, slowly, gently shrugging off Kurama's attempt to help. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Willow said. "You just sort of…flew. And hit the wall. We have no idea how it happened."

Dean looked over at his brother, who was still unchanged, and slumped. "It didn't work."

Anya shook her head. "He jerked. Once. He jerked once. And for a second he _almost_ seemed to have an expression, but…then he went back to being freaky."

"Which means we need a new plan," Xander said.

Dean sighed, and climbed to his feet. He still had no idea what had happened to him, but he felt fine. "Okay. This is okay. This is fine. I can work with this. Plan B, plan B…hey, who's playing _My Heart Will Go On_?"

Kurama immediately flushed deeply. "Um…um, that's me."

Dean quirked an eyebrow, then stood up, taking out his cell phone. "Here. It plays _Highway to Hell_. Download it. Embrace the testosterone, not the estrogen."

"What's this…music? What does it mean, Kurama?" Hiei asked curiously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's a song from the chick-flickiest movie ever made. Now all we need is a giant ship and Leonardo DiCaprio in the corner to bring back the worst three hours of _my_ childhood."

"Who's…"

"Never mind."

Meanwhile, Kurama's phone was on the sixth or seventh ring, and he finally picked it up and flipped it open.

"No, what does it mean, really? Who is this DiCaprio person? And a giant _ship_?" Hiei was saying, when Kurama suddenly said, "Oh, hello, Yusuke."

Dean quite forgot about their for-once-civilized conversation. "Japan?" he mouthed, and Kurama nodded.

"Hold on a second, Yusuke," Kurama said, and then spoke to Dean. "He called me an hour or two ago. Kuwabara thought something was wrong here."

"Yeah, well, he was right," Dean said bitterly.

"Who are these people?" Buffy broke in.

"Friends of Hiei and I. We work together."

"And how did this Kawa…Kawu…"

"_Kuwabara_ is psychic. He has a sort of…connection…with certain people. Me, Hiei, Yusuke, his sister Shizuru, and a couple others. He must be able to work over longer distances now…"

"KURAMA, PAY ATTENTION!"

Kurama jumped a foot as a high-pitched voice emitted from the phone, loud enough for the whole room to hear. He recovered quickly and held the phone to his ear again. "Hello, Koenma. Nice to talk to you, too."

"DON'T BE CUTE, DO _NOT_ BE CUTE! THIS IS _SERIOUS_!" the voice screeched.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Listen, I'm going to put you on speaker, so you can talk to all of us." Before the guy on the other end could protest, Kurama hit a button and put the phone on the table in the middle of the room. "You're all on speaker."

"So you finally figured out your phone, Kurama?" a different voice from the squeaky one asked teasingly.

Kurama smiled. "I did. I had some help, though," he added, sitting down on the floor as everyone else did the same. "So how are you guys? We haven't talked in a couple of weeks."

"Oh, we're all pretty good. Pretty much the same as always. Or we were, until those two Winchester guys showed up and things got weird. Hey, are they around?"

"Yes, they are," Dean said a little awkwardly. He had no idea what he was supposed to say now.

"Oh, hi, Dean," Yusuke said, sounding perfectly at ease. "How are you? You sound tired. Come to think of it, so do you, Kurama." A pause, and then Yusuke said, "Something's wrong, isn't it? _Really_ wrong."

"HEY, AREN'T YOU ALL FORGETTING ABOUT _ME_? YOUR _BOSS_?"

"Koenma, you don't need to shout anymore…"

"I AM THE SON OF THE RULER OF THE ENTIRE SPIRIT WORLD! I WILL SHOUT IF I WANT TO SHOUT!"

"Hey, why does he sound like a baby?" Dean asked.

"Oh, he's in a toddler's body," Kurama explained.

Dean surprised himself with a snort of laughter. "Excuse me? You take orders from a _toddler_?"

"HEY! DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I CAN BE QUITE HANDSOME! AND I HAPPEN TO BE AN _ADORABLE_ TODDLER!"

"Stop shouting before I go there and kill you," Hiei growled, and surprisingly, Koenma gave a squeak and fell silent. "Now we have a serious problem. So shut up and _listen_ to us."

XXX

The tale—begun with Sam's visions and ended with Koenma's call—was shared among Kurama and Dean, with a few interjections from Hiei. The others, unsure of who they were talking to, stayed nervously silent, the questions plain on their faces.

Once the story was complete, Koenma was silent for a while. Then he said thoughtfully, "That may explain it…"

"Explain? Explain what?" Kurama asked, leaning forward where he sat on the floor.

Koenma barely seemed to hear him. "I went into the Records Department earlier today, and I found out that the body count is _significantly_ high this year. Higher than it's been in nearly a thousand years. Maybe this is why…when did you say this happened last?"

"12th century," Kurama answered instantly.

"12th century…12th century…could you hold on?"

"If I said no would you care?"

"No."

"I can hold on," Kurama said with a chuckle, but it didn't matter because some kind of weird elevator music was sounding over the phone."

"Okay, so…who're we talking to?" Tara asked, looking relieved to finally have a chance to ask.

"Koenma, our…" Hiei started to say something else, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He choked, and trailed off.

"Our boss. Hiei hates saying that word," Kurama said. "He rules what you would call the Spirit World. He also keeps an eye on the humans, and on the demon world of Makai. He gives us our orders, we follow them…"

"And the world rotates backwards on its axis." Yusuke's voice rang out again, and they all jumped, except for Sam, obviously. "God, that hold music is _annoying_. You guys still there?"

"Yes."

"Hey, just out of curiosity, and for the sake of killing time…how many people am I talking to here?"

Kurama did a quick head count, slowed only by a quick debate with himself over whether or not to include Sam, and then he reported, "Eleven, not counting me."

"Oh. Well…um…hi. I'm…erm…Yusuke Urameshi…and I feel really stupid right now. Kuwabara, speak, please. Kuwabara? Oh. He's asleep. Of course he's asleep. I have to make conversation with twelve people, so of _course_ he's asleep…"

"You can stop beating around the bush," Dean said calmly. "I'm all right."

"Oh…uh…well…that's good," Yusuke said, sounding flustered.

"Yeah. We'll figure out how to save him. I'm pretty used to getting him out of scrapes anyway. This is a bit more than a scrape, but…it's all the same, really."

"I guess. I've never had to take care of anyone before, so I wouldn't know. You guys have a plan yet?"

"We already tried…something," Kurama replied. "It didn't work. We were about to start brainstorming again when you called."

"And you told Koenma _everything_ you know?"

"Yes."

"And exactly what was it that you tried earlier?"

Kurama seemed a little uncomfortable. "Well…it was an exorcism."

"Run that by me again?"

"An exorcism. You know, to expel spirits and demons."

"Like in the movies? Kurama, have you lost your mind?"

"It wasn't _my_ idea!" Kurama protested. "You _know_ that the Winchesters work differently than we do. They hunt different things. And in different ways. It was _Dean's_ idea."

"And you _really_ don't want to continue questioning my methods right now," Dean warned, though his voice was still completely calm.

"Oh. Okay. Well. Um…is there any other way to get this…thing…out of your brother?" Yusuke asked.

"Besides an exorcism? No. I think that's the only thing to reverse a possession. And just knocking him out is completely pointless. What _I _can't figure out is why the demon _waits_. I mean, why is it just _leaving_ him like…like this?"

Giles answered, glad to have _something_ to put in. "Well, a full possession may take some time. I mean, making him like this must have taken quite an effort. My guess is that the thing took some of Sam's physical abilities—speaking, hearing, thinking, etc.—and kept the things it could use, such as motor skills and, of course, his power."

"Wait. Power? What power? You mean his visions?"

Giles didn't answer immediately, though. He began to pace instead, with a look, not of confusion, but of dawning comprehension. "No…not just visions…it can't be just that, because he's not the only person who has them. There must be something special about your brother for him to be chosen…"

"Special like 'don't eat the paste' special? Or special like _special_ special?"

"That's got to be the most times the word special has been used in a ten-second period," Yusuke said.

Giles appeared to be hearing none of this, though. "Dean, before the visions started…or even afterward…did your brother ever show any other signs of…special abilities?"

Dean shrugged. "I have no idea. He was at college at the time, remember?"

"Yes. Well, either way…your brother must have enormous power locked away inside him, to have attracted this demon. It may never have manifested itself, but only because he doesn't know how to consciously tap into it."

"What are you talking about, Jeeves?"

"Don't you see? The speed, the last vision your brother had that sent you to Japan…what if they were the _symptoms_, and not the core of the matter? What if they were just random bursts of his power? And if _he_ can't actually use it…the demon can. _That_ must be what it wants…Sam's _power_. _That_ is what will help it to destroy."

"Destroy…what, exactly?" Dean asked.

"Whatever it can. It will quite literally use _all_ of Sam's power, in one go, and that, combined with its own, not negligible, black magic…could destroy not only Sunnydale, not only California, but the whole of the _continent_, maybe."

"Including my brother."

Giles sighed and fixed Dean with a pitying gaze. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to be straight with you. Sam will be the first to go. His power will be utterly expended within minutes, and then the demon will begin to draw on his very life. And then…your brother will die."

"No, he won't," Dean said, his voice low and dangerous.

They all looked at him, and his eyes sparked dangerously. Suddenly, he didn't look quite sane, or all that safe to have around.

"He isn't going to die. I've taken care of that kid since he was six months old, and I've _never_ let anything…permanent…happen to him. Sam is gonna be fine, and that _thing_ that's messing with _my_ brother…with my _family_…it's gonna pay. If I have to march into Hell itself…so help me, _someone's _gonna pay."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Finally, we are nearing the climax of the story! I estimate two or three more chapters before this is over. Maybe an epilogue, I'm not sure. Either way, it's almost done. Just so you all know. Please, please review!

- - - - - - - - - -

**"Wisdom is not summoned, only discovered." –Master Belesharon, _To Light a Candle_**

**"Love is the most powerful emotion that I have encountered. It can move mountains, and it can destroy kingdoms. Who is to judge what we do in the name of something so extraordinary?" –Ridley C. James**

**"Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have?" –Angel, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_**


	14. Chapter 13: Oh, Look, An Action Sequence

Anonymous / Mediaminer Reviewer(s):

**kahuffstix**: Thanks for your review! I updated as soon as I could, but…well, those who have read my fics know what a slow writer I am. It's a problem…but it's not _your_ problem, so…I'll just go and write the chapter now.

- - - - - - - - - -

After Dean's icy-calm declaration, a tense silence fell over the room. Everyone just sort of sat there and avoided Dean's gaze, disconcerted by what they'd heard. Yusuke remained on the phone, making strained small talk with Kurama, the only person who would say anything to him—or anyone at all, actually.

As for Dean…he seemed to have reached his limit, and now he was the quietest of them all. He had returned to his seat in the chair, where he assumed a brooding expression and stared intently at his brother as if expecting Sam to just snap out of it and be…Sam…again.

At last, at long last, Koenma returned to the phone and reported that yes, the body count _had _gone up in the last possession. So apparently there _was_ a connection, which was easy enough to figure out _without_ the data, but whatever.

"So basically, we have a guy with huge power he can't control who is _being_ controlled by one seriously ticked off demon who wants nothing but destruction, murder, and mayhem, and we have quite a bit less that twenty-four hours to stop the whole thing or it's doom, doom, doom for all of you good old Americans, plus a couple of our own guys. Am I missing anything?"

"No, I think that sums it up, Yusuke," Kurama replied. "Now…an actual _plan_ might be helpful."

"Well," Yusuke said, seeming undaunted by the tone. "I think, first of all, that Kuwabara and I should come there. Like right now. You could use all the help you can—"

"No," Koenma interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"I have another assignment for you and Kuwabara."

Yusuke groaned. "Please, please, please tell me it has something to do with this whole thing and isn't some random job. Because if it is, forget it."

"No, it's related to this problem. I want you to go to Makai. It's possible that the possession could be happening over distance and through dimensions. I want you to find out if there are any demons in Makai who work that way."

"But that'll take _way_ more time than we have," Yusuke protested.

"Not necessarily. I find that since the new king came to power in Makai, interrogations have gotten quite a bit easier. If you leave now you should be back by morning—or evening where you are, Kurama."

"And if the demon doesn't have a physical form or is located somewhere other than…Makai, isn't it?…that would be where we come in, correct?" Giles asked. He didn't wait for a reply. "Well, then, we need to plan anyway, because I doubt our friend has a physical form. I mean, I don't deny that it bears investigating, but…I don't think you're going to find anything."

"You may be right," Koenma conceded. "But then, you may be very wrong, which is why I'm doing this."

"Okay, fine, we'll do it. We'll leave right now," Yusuke agreed reluctantly. "Well, just as soon as I wake Kuwabara up. But Koenma, if we don't find anything, I'm heading straight for California."

"Of course."

"Okay, then. And Kurama, Hiei, Dean…and whoever else is listening—all of you, be careful."

And then the line disconnected, and the thinking resumed.

XXX

The sky was fully light when Dean suddenly spoke. "Okay, it's official. Sam was right. I'm an idiot." His voice held none of the coldness from earlier, which was a relief. But he wasn't making sense, which wasn't quite so good.

Without another word, Dean strode over to the coffee table and picked up his exorcism book again. This time, though, he actually looked closely at it, checking each page. He obviously hadn't used whatever he was looking for as often as he'd used the exorcism.

"So he either has an idea or he finally went over the edge," Cordelia whispered to Angel.

"I haven't cracked," Dean said distractedly. "I think I have an idea…ah! Binding spell!"

"What?"

"A binding spell! That's how we'll deal with the demon!"

And suddenly they all looked very interested—and some a little confused.

"Look, you've used binding circles before, haven't you?" Dean asked patiently.

"Well, of course I…_we_…have," Giles replied. "I find they work quite well for the lower and middle class demons, but for something of this caliber…"

"Trust me, it'll work if we do it right," Dean assured the room at large. "See, I've only used this spell once, but that was enough to know that it's _really_ effective if there's enough manpower around. And…uh…" He looked around the packed room. "I don't think that's gonna be much of a problem as it might've been."

"Would you _please_ explain this _clearly_?" Anya burst out, tired of waiting.

"Anya, honey, be patient," Xander said quietly.

"The circle has to be drawn with…well, Giles, how do you pronounce that?" He held the book out to show it to Giles.

"Oh, I have one of these," Giles said promptly.

"Good," Dean said, taking the book back. "We're gonna need one and mine is…um…in my car at the airport in L.A. Anyways, the thing is cast with salt, holy water, your basic repellents…and magic. Well, not magic, actually, 'cause anyone can use it…"

"Ki," Kurama supplied. "Energy," he added in response to the blank stares. "The personal, unique energy that all living things have. But not everyone is aware of it, so they can't use it."

"And how do _we_, um, use it?" Tara asked.

Kurama shrugged. "The same way you and Willow use your magic. And Buffy, the same way you use your power when you slay. You must have used it as well, Giles, if you've ever done a spell."

"Well, what about Anya and me and Angel and Cordy?" Xander asked. "We've never…"

"I'll teach you. It's a matter of about five minutes of instruction," Kurama replied.

"And the more energy we put into it, the stronger it will be," Dean said.

"So we know how to _hold_ it, but how do we _kill_ it?" Buffy asked.

"_Without hurting my brother_," Dean added, with careful emphasis on each word. "Yeah, that's…that could be a bit more of a problem."

It was Hiei who spoke now, for the first time since the phone call. "Maybe not."

"Why? What do you have up your sleeve, shrimp?"

"Don't…call…me…that," Hiei said through clenched teeth.

"Fine, _mega_shrimp, then." A low grown rumbled in Hiei's throat. "Okay, okay, sorry. What's your idea?"

"Well…Kurama, couldn't you use one of your plants?"

Kurama sighed and ducked his head. "Dean, I think I may have just beaten you on the idiocy scale."

"Plants?" Dean scoffed. "As in roses and daffodils?"

Kurama smiled slightly. "Roses, yes, most frequently. No daffodils."

"And how will your penchant for gardening help us?"

"You don't need to be so harsh," Giles chided gently, even as Hiei's hand clenched into a fist.

"Don't worry about it," Kurama said cheerfully, reaching up into his hair. "It does sound a but odd, I suppose." Still smiling, he withdrew his hand from his hair and opened it to reveal a single rose petal in his palm.

"You just had that in your _hair_?" Xander asked. "That is just…_genius!"_

"And…what's the point you're trying to make with that?" Dean asked.

Kurama just looked at him, and held up his left hand. Slowly, deliberately, he touched the petal to his palm and drew it across, the flower barely touching the skin. To the shock of all watching—except Hiei, who just looked highly annoyed—the soft, harmless-looking petal opened Kurama's hand and drew blood.

"What the…"

Kurama closed his hand, and when he opened it again only the wound remained. "Each petal I use is as sharp as a razor blade," he explained. "I can make a weapon out of most any plant. And, of course, I use Makai plants, which have their own powers."

"…Cool trick…" Tara said.

"Do you need a bandage or anything?" Buffy asked.

Kurama shook his head. "I've had much worse. I heal quickly."

"That's good, that's good…so how does this talent of yours help us?" Dean asked.

"Good you asked. It just so happens that I have a plant that cold solve our little dilemma. Well, it's a seed, at the moment, but it could be a plant in an instant."

"And what does it do?" Dean asked patiently.

"It…kills demons," Kurama said.

"And after the totally called for 'duh' let me ask what that would do to Sam."

"Absolutely nothing, if handled properly."

"Come again?"

"I could persuade it to attack _only_ what I tell it to. And it's _most_ difficult to defend against."

"Well, I'm suddenly really liking this plan."

"I think we can all say that," Giles agreed. "Now…all we're missing is defense. This thing is sure to lash out at us. We need a way to guard against that."

"Oh, finally, something I can do," Hiei said, getting as close to a smile as most had ever seen him get. "I can take care of shielding each of you."

"Are you sure…?" Giles began.

"I can handle it," Hiei snapped, the almost-smile disappearing.

"But this demon is _powerful_," Giles protested. "Forgive me, but…it may be stronger than you seem to be."

Hiei smirked, without a spark of humor. "Trust me. I'm small. That's true. And it's also true that you have _no idea_ what I'm capable of. I hope you won't ever have to find out."

XXX

The rest of the day passed agonizingly slowly. Waiting is always hard, even when you're waiting for something horrible that you'd really never see at all.

Some of them had things to do. Giles sent Tara to the Magic Box for the supplies they would need for the spell. Giles himself spent most of the day lecturing them each in turn on how much energy they would need to put into the circle and how much to keep in case of a fight. When he wasn't doing that he was instructing Willow, who would be doing the actual spell work, since Giles felt he was better off staying around Sam. Buffy went outside—for a workout, she said, although she seemed rather distracted. Kurama, Xander, Anya, Angel and Cordelia went to the kitchen so that Kurama could teach them what they'd need to know that night. Hiei and Dean stayed in the living room, separated by most of the furniture.

Hiei now seemed more mellowed than he had been since he and Dean met. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees, sitting so still that Dean momentarily wondered if he was breathing.

Dean spent the time pacing and weapon-checking, and wondering if he should bring up some sort of conversation with Hiei and deciding against it. Sometimes he glanced at Sam, secretly harboring a crazy hope that his brother's eyes would hold personality again, that Sam would just come _back_. But it was always the same—Sam wasn't part of his own body anymore.

While pacing, Dean also had time to go over all the potential problems with tonight's plan, What he came up with…was way too many things for his liking. And most of those problems involved people screwing up.

Dean wasn't used to trusting people. He trusted his father, and his brother, and a few members of the Clergy. And he trusted himself. No one else. But now, he was placing all his faith, and his brother's life, on the ability of a bunch of people he barely knew. He was depending on others and he didn't like it. But the _really_ odd thing was that even if he didn't like that he had no choice but to rely on them, at the same time…sharing the burden…

It felt nice.

"It's done."

Dean dragged himself out of his reverie, and looked at Hiei, who was suddenly on his feet. "What?"

"It's done. The wards are up."

"Really?" Dean asked. "I didn't feel anything."

"You won't. Not until they're called upon to protect you. Then the shields will automatically begin drawing on my strength, and I will have to concentrate on maintaining them." Hiei sighed. "If it were just me and Kurama…but it isn't. I'm out of this fight, I'm afraid." And quite suddenly he smiled. Dean barely managed to hide his surprise. "Sad. I have some good techniques."

"Like what?" Dean asked curiously.

Hiei didn't answer. He just looked away.

"What's wrong?"

Hiei shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"You can't tell me what you can do?" Hiei nodded. "Okay…why?"

"I just can't. If I did there would be fighting and hurting and…"

"And you're a fire-demon," Dean said, the truth suddenly striking him. "Damn. Why didn't I see that before?" he murmured, so many thoughts chasing through his mind that he couldn't even start to sort them out, let alone do something about what he now knew.

"You had no way to guess. I wasn't planning on you ever finding out—"

"Did you kill my mother?" Dean interrupted quietly.

Hiei leveled his gaze at Dean. "No."

"And Jessica?"

"No."

"Do I have any reason to believe you?"

"Not that I can see. But I swear, I didn't do it. I've done horrible things in my life, but…never this."

"…Okay."

Hiei just kept looking expectantly at him for a moment. Then he said, "That's it?"

"Yeah, well, I have to trust you for now. You're helping protect my brother. I don't have a choice, do I?" Hiei just nodded, and gave that rare—but rather charismatic—smile, and for a few moments they were silent, before Dean said, "Just so it's clear…we didn't just have any kind of…you know…moment. This was just a business conversation between two hunters."

"Agreed."

"Doesn't mean I like you or want to be friends or anything."

"Agreed."

XXX

_Sam groaned softly as he reached up to rub his head. The pain had been growing steadily worse. And more importantly, it had started to trickle down to the rest of his body. His muscles were stiffening quickly—which really didn't make any sense, since he had been pacing without rest since he'd been landed here._

_With another sigh, he looked around at the endless gray of his surroundings. He was so _tired_ of gray…it seemed like every time he fell asleep now, it was gray, and he didn't know where he was or how long he had been there. _

_Sam didn't remember falling asleep, but he supposed he must have, to end up here. The last thing he remembered was pain. A lot of pain. He also remembered Dean's yells. But nothing else. And while that kind of thing always worried him, this time…it was worse, for some reason. He felt that something was very, very wrong, and that if he could just get through the must and wake _up_, all the problems would be solved._

"_I hate to break it to you, kid, but that might be difficult."_

_This time, Sam didn't jump or show any sign of surprise. "Why do you like doing that so much?" he asked instead, turning to face the older, much shorter man. _

"_Well, this place is freakin' _boring_. And you usually have a much funnier reaction."_

"_It's Doyle, right?" Sam asked._

"_That's right. You forgot that last time."_

"_I had a lot on my mind!"_

"_Hey, no one's judging here," Doyle replied, holding up one hand in defense. _

"_Why're you here, anyway?" Sam asked. _

"_Wow, not feelin' the love here."_

"_I don't know you. There _is_ no love. What're you doing, man?"_

_Doyle shrugged. "Watching you."_

"_Uh…I was kinda hoping for a little more than that."_

_Doyle gave a half-smile. "Ah. You want the why. Well, I can't give you that."_

"_Why not?"_

"_It's not in my job description. And in my line of work…you don't go outside the job description." _

_And something in his voice said clearly that pressing him would prove fruitless. "Fine. Can you at least tell me what's going on here?"_

"_That's why I'm here, actually. See, you're not asleep, or even unconscious."_

_Sam couldn't hide his surprise this time. "Seriously? But then…how…"_

"_A demon did this. It took your physical form under its control and sent your spirit to a different plane…that is to say, here." Doyle delivered this news calmly, simply, as if it wouldn't totally crush the man in front of him. _

_Sam suddenly found it difficult to stay on his feet. "I'm…possessed?"_

"_Mm-hmm. Well, in a manner of speaking. It's different from the last time you were possessed." _

_Sam jerked in surprise. "You _know_ about that?"_

"_I know a lot of things."_

"_Great, a regular Miyagi," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "So…um…I haven't…done anything, have I?"_

"_You mean have you gone into an insane rage and shot your brother in the chest? No."_

_Sam let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. _

"_Actually, you're not doing _anything._ You never even got your eyes closed. You're just sitting there staring at the ceiling. You haven't even blinked in hours. Sorta disturbin', actually. Back in Sunnydale, they're all looking for a way to save you."_

"_And how…how's Dean?" Sam asked, somehow knowing he didn't have to explain who Dean was._

_Doyle shrugged. "As well as can be expected. He's angry. And…" _

"_Don't say scared," Sam said firmly. "Dean is never scared."_

"_Fine, concerned, then. He's concerned." _

_Sam nodded. "Okay. So…so why did this demon possess _me_?" _

"_That's another thing I really shouldn't tell you," Doyle replied, and Sam sighed in exasperation. "Don't worry. One day it'll be clear. It may not be tomorrow, or the next day, or for a long time yet. But…one day."_

"_Anyone ever tell you you're like a freakin' fortune cookie?"_

"_I get that, yeah."_

_Sam chuckled, but the sound was hollow, unreal. "Doyle?"_

"_Yeah, kid?"_

"_If they don't save me…what will happen?"_

XXX

"Hey, does anyone know where Spike is?" Buffy asked, coming back into the house after two hours of "working out."

"Nope. Not our turn to baby-sit him," Xander replied, and Dean thought he picked up a trace of animosity in the tone. At Buffy's glare, he sighed. "What's wrong?"

"I just haven't seen him in a few days. He's usually around when I'm patrolling, but…" She shrugged. "Well, I haven't been patrolling."

"Who's Spike?" Dean asked. "Boyfriend?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "God only knows."

Dean couldn't help but grin. "Oh, one of those 'friends with benefits' things, is it? Wow, that's a bad look."

And it was. If looks could kill the one Buffy was giving Dean definitely would have sent him straight to Heaven or Hell and skip the morgue.

"Can we please forget I just said that?"

Buffy snorted. "Whatever. The point is, I can't find him, I don't know where he is, and it's bugging me."

"Don't worry, he'll turn up," Anya said. "He always finds his way back. Like that dog on TV."

"Uh-huh…so…are we ready for action?" Buffy asked.

"As ready as we can be. Just waiting for Sam to…do something," Dean replied.

"Right. Well, it's almost sunset, so we only have a few minutes to wait," Giles said. "Now this is what we need to do…"

XXX

Ten minutes later, half the group was headed for the cemetery, armed to the teeth and ready for combat, while the other half—including Giles, Kurama, Dean, Angel and Cordelia—remained at Buffy's house with Sam.

"Now remember, when he gets up, don't try to stop him," Giles cautioned. "Don't even get near him. He'd knock you across the room in an instant. Just follow, at a distance, silently. Don't fight until we get to the circle—Willow has the spell to activate it. Trust me, there will be plenty to do then."

XXX

Tara finished tracing the insignia in the earth and sheathed Giles' dagger. "Okay, salt next."

Xander came forward with a canister. "Where _are_ they?" he muttered as he started to trace the circle with salt. "Sun's almost set. They should be here by now…"

"Well, we need all the time we can get," Buffy pointed out reasonably as she came forward with a bottle of holy water to complete the circle. "Willow, you ready?"

Willow gave a thumbs-up from where she stood with an open book in her arms. "And waiting."

"Well, you're not gonna be waiting for long because Sam's heading this way," Anya reported, pointing down the street to where a tall figure was headed toward them, about fifteen feet ahead of six others.

"Are you ready, Hiei?" Tara called, glancing up at the small demon who was standing calmly on a high tree branch above their heads, hands clasped behind his back and feet slightly spread.

"Yes," he said. "Just block any hits as often as possible. My power has limits."

"Oh, God, I hate fighting…" Willow sighed.

"Me, too, honey. But hey, maybe they'll be able to do most of it without us," Tara said hopefully. "Besides, we have a couple spells we could use, right?"

"Oh, sure, we can float things at the evil demon," Willow said, rolling her eyes. "Now if it was just vamps, we have some fire spells and stuff, but…no such luck."

"Okay, I hate to interrupt, but they're here," Xander said.

Willow turned her attention back to the book.

"Showtime."

XXX

Hiei watched as Willow finished the first part of the spell. No visible change came to the circle, but that didn't matter—it was ready.

And just in time, too. Sam came striding through the gate three seconds later. He didn't even seem to notice any of them, or the circle he was in. He just stood there, and they all watched, puzzled, waiting for him to do something. Willow forgot about the spell for a moment.

The sun set fully, and still they waited. Not once did Sam so much as glance at the people surrounding him. But on the plus side, he wasn't trying to brutally main and kill any of them—yet.

Hiei had barely completed the thought when Sam suddenly threw his head back and let out a strangled yell of pain. For a split second, his eyes showed personality again—and the most profound agony. Hiei saw Dean jump forward, and Giles grabbed his arm and jerked him back just before he entered the circle. "Now, Willow!"

Sam stopped screaming as Giles yelled this, and his eyes were no longer empty—they were jet black and filled with hate. A slow, evil smile curved across his face as he looked around at them, and when he spoke, a deep voice, colder than the ninth level of Hell, issued from his lips. "Oh, good, we're all here."

"_In omnia paratus…"_

Sam—or the thing inside Sam—jerked his head toward Willow, rage twisting the handsome features.

"_In omnia paratus…"_

"_No_!" the demon yelled, trying to step outside the circle. He leapt back with a snarl as an electrical sort of _pop_ sounded—his body was now trapped. Growling still, he clapped his hands.

Willow groaned and drop to her knees as a horrible _crack_ cut through the relative silence. Her right arm hung useless at her side.

So his magic was apparently quite free even if his body wasn't.

Giles was headed for the book—Tara was already supporting Willow, helping her stand again—as the demon waved his hand again. Willow screamed and doubled over in pain as her arm made another cracking sound, but only for a moment. Then she suddenly stood up straight without any help. Her injured hand came up to grip the book and she looked at the demon, her eyes now as black as his. The demon kept attacking her, but she didn't go down.

"You're not going to do this," Willow said softly, before her voice changed to a bellow. "_IN OMNIA PARATUS!"_

A wall of white light sprang up momentarily around the circle, and when it was gone Willow was collapsed on the ground, the book lying next to her.

And the demon was still smiling, though less so that before.

"What's it so happy about?" Hiei heard Buffy ask.

Just before the ground opened up around them.

XXX

_Well, this is gonna suck,_ Dean thought, watching as Hiei lifted the unconscious Willow and jumped effortlessly back into his tree without even being noticed by the demon. He got her up just as the earth on every grave in sight began to shift and move and finally erupt to bring forth either zombies or vampires.

_This is _really_ gonna suck_.

XXX

Hiei leaned Willow against the trunk of the tree, keeping one arm braced around her so she wouldn't fall. Himself he wasn't much worried about—he'd been living in trees practically since he was born, after all.

Once he was sure the redhead was safe, he turned his attention to what was about to become a major battlefield. The members of the group still on the ground were now spread out, armed with wooden stakes, swords, and crossbows, and shifting into combat position.

"Looks like you're gonna get your wish, Wil," Hiei heard Xander say to himself.

_Too bad she can't enjoy it_, Hiei thought, looking down at Willow, who was still out. _I'll give you the play-by-play later, as you humans say._

Then the two sides met, the shields immediately came up to guard them, and there was no more time for thoughts.

XXX

Tara watched in satisfaction as Hiei's shields deflected every attack thrown at her friends, who were meanwhile fighting with everyone they had. On the sidelines, Tara cast her fire spells with great discretion, pouring most of her energy into the circle binding the demon.

Meanwhile, Sam/Demon was fighting to get out of the circle. No visible effort was made, but Tara could sense the black magic, thick in the air. She closed her eyes and prayed that the spell would hold…at least long enough for Kurama to strike.

XXX

Hiei usually found it easy to follow fights with his eyes, but this time there were too many to keep track of, on both sides. So he just settled for controlling the shields and keeping Willow in the tree and watching over Kurama and waiting for the bandit to make his move.

He was beginning to think that would never happen when Kurama wrapped his rose whip around the next of two vampires at once and cut off both their heads—he'd gotten the hang of "vamp-fighting" extremely quickly—and stepped quickly out of the way of the battle. He put away the thorned whip and reached into his hair again, pulling out another seed.

Hiei smirked. If things went the way they were supposed to…he was about to see something _deeply_ sexy.

XXX

_Keep me safe, love_, Kurama thought, sparing a glance for Hiei before he began feeding his ki into the seed. Hiei was watching him intently, every part of him screaming for Kurama to hurry up and put an end to this. The fox smiled reassuringly at Hiei, and then resolutely blocked out the rest of the world, focusing solely on the seed in front of him.

For a second, he didn't seem to be making any difference. Then the seed began to sprout. It grew a head, and then a couple of limbs, and the next thing Kurama knew, the thing was a good twelve feet tall with three heads and countless limbs and waving roots, and it had captured the attention of the entire battlefield. Of course, the plant wasn't the _only_ captivating thing on the field…

For a moment, the feelings of bloodlust and hunger and fury overwhelmed Kurama, and he couldn't move. Then he remembered that it was he had to do, and what was resting on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and began to arduous task of bringing the plant under control.

XXX

When Willow woke up, her first thought was to scream, for multiple reasons. One: her arm _hurt_. God, it hurt. Two: she was in a tree, _High_ in a tree. Three: there was a battle raging below, and all her friends were in huge danger. Four: there was a twelve-foot…thing…way too close for comfort.

"Oh, God, we're dead. We're dead, aren't we?"

"No," Hiei replied without looking at her. His eyes were trained on something below them. "We're probably saved, actually. Don't move—you'll jostle your arm." Willow noticed then that his arm was holding her up, and she felt a pang of relief. At least, she didn't have to worry about falling—Hiei seemed quite at home in this tree. "I'm sorry my shield didn't protect you," Hiei went on. "I can't think of why, but…"

"No, it's okay. So that's Kurama's…um…plant?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Help me sit up."

"What?"

"I want to see. Help me sit up."

So Hiei put his other arm around her and lifted her, gently enough that she didn't feel too much more pain. Leaning against the tree trunk, she looked down.

Fifteen feet below, the fight was on—Willow knew at a glance that it was hopeless to try and keep track. Sam was still bound in the circle, so that had worked, thank God. _At least I didn't break my arm for nothing_. But it couldn't hold him indefinitely, that much she knew.

"It won't have to hold much longer," Hiei said, as if in response to her thoughts. "Kurama's plant will take care of it."

Willow looked at the base of the gigantic, disturbing, sinister plant, and her mouth dropped open. "Who _is_ that?" she breathed, staring at the seven-foot, silver-haired, eared, and tailed wonder below. "He's…_beautiful."_

"Put your eyes back in. He's taken," Hiei replied.

Willow looked from the vision on the ground to Hiei and the meaning of the warning hit her. "_That's Kurama!"_

"It is. In his strongest form. He doesn't like to change into it, but to control this plant, I guess he had no choice."

"So what's he—"

"Just watch."

XXX

The demon had never known fear, not in countless years of living. And he didn't really feel fear now. Looking at the plant that was out for blood and heart and soul—all the demon felt was a slight trepidation that came mostly from being enclosed.

The plant's movement was almost comical as it moved one of its three heads closer to the circle holding the demon. The demon began to use his power with increasing force as the plant moved closer. The barrier…it was so close to coming down. And the second it did…

_All will die_.

XXX

"Break the circle!" Kurama shouted. "It's time! Break it now!"

He couldn't see any visible change in the fighting, but a moment later their ki dropped away from the barrier. In seconds the spell would be deactivated and the demon would be free. The time had come. Kurama looked up at his plant, and if anyone had been watching they would have been chilled to the bone by his smile.

_Feed_.

XXX

_Now_ he felt the fear, Well, the demon thought it was fear, anyway. Then came a much more familiar sensation—pain. And _then_…the demon felt the life begin to drain from him too fast to be stopped. He roared in anger, fought to hold on to the human, to force it to do more of his bidding.

But the thing's power was out of control now. The human was getting stronger as the demon got weaker. With a grown and a superhuman effort, the demon took control one more time.

_If I am to leave this world…I will not go alone_.

XXX

_Almost…just a little more…_ Hiei thought, feeling as the demon in Sam began to die. Kurama was tiring—on the brink of exhaustion, in fact. _Just another moment, fox…and then we can rest. Just another—_

He never finished the thought. There was a scream of pure rage, explosion of malevolent power. It smashed full force into all of Hiei's shields at once, cracking them. Hiei threw everything he had left into maintaining them, ignoring the lashes of energy unleashed on him. He held on past pain and sense and thought and feeling.

He felt himself begin to die, along with Kurama and everyone else.

"NO! LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

Hiei just had time to wonder who yelled the words, before all the power attacking them vanished.

Hiei fell.

XXX

"Sam? SAMMY!" Dean called, trying not to show how frantic he was as he combed through the hundreds of zombie corpses for his brother. Around him, the others were sitting among the bodies, most too exhausted to move. Kurama was holding a barely-conscious Hiei in his arms and a few feet away Willow was lying on the ground, Tara sitting next to her. She had been caught by Hiei just before they both hit the ground. They would both be fine. He hadn't checked on anyone else yet—he had to find Sam.

He didn't notice Angel until the vampire touched his shoulder. He jumped, and turned.

Angel smiled a little. "Go sit."

"I have to find my brother."

"You're exhausted. You don't realize it yet, because of the adrenaline, but you need to rest."

"Then you can _help_ me. But I'm not stopping until I find my brother."

XXX

It was Angel who found Sam, not five minutes later. Dean heard him shout, and he arrived just in time to see Angel lay his brother down on the ground.

Sam's eyes were closed, and his entire body was limp. He was as pale as the vampire. And worst of all, there was no sign of life at all.

"His heart is beating, faintly," Angel reported. "He's breathing a little. He's still alive. Barely." Angel looked around at the rest of the group, at the bodies that hadn't turned to dust or something. "We need to get out of the cemetery. And then we need an ambulance."

XXX

Dean looked at the clock on the wall during what felt like his millionth lap around the hospital waiting room. Midnight. They'd been here for a little over five hours and still no word on Sam.

Willow had been taken down to X-ray. It was determined that her arm was broken in two places, so the doctors plastered it up and put her in a sling. Hiei, of course, hadn't allowed anyone to check him out, and most of the others, miraculously, had only suffered minor injuries—a few stitches here and there, some bandaging, and most of them were good to go.

None of them did. Instead, they all packed into the waiting room, and…waited. No one spoke. Dean paced. Time passed.

It was nearly one in the morning before a doctor finally came into the waiting room and called for those with Sam Winchester.

Dean knew instantly that it was bad. No doctor could have that expression when about to give good news.

Okay, so…he's fine. It'll just take a while to make him better. That's okay…we have time…

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester. We did everything we could, but…your brother is brain-dead."

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Okay, so the only reason for this note is for me to apologize if the constant changing of points of view confused or annoyed anyone. It's the only way I know how to do battle scenes. That's a weak point of mine—writing the fights. So if it was bad, I'm sorry, and the next chapter _should_ make up for it…I hope.

Review, please! Nice long chapter! It'd be a shame for that to go to waste!

- - - - - - - - - - -

**"War determines not who is right, but who is left." –Unknown**

"**It hurts sometimes, more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow; empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead." –Angel, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_**

"**If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance." –King Théoden, _Lord of the Rings_**

"**Skin breaks so easily, it makes me wonder if we were meant to hurt." –wild wolf free17**


	15. Chapter 14: It Shouldn't Have Happened

Anonymous/Mediaminer Reviewer(s):

**kahuffstix**: Yeah, it made me sad too. Like _really_ sad. 'Specially since I didn't actually see that part coming…

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: I might have forgotten to put in the summary that there's one song in this story. This chapter is the songfic-ish one. The music belongs to Simple Plan (I think) and incidentally this one song is what brought around the entire fic. It's a _really_ good song, and I think it goes really well here, so read the lyrics, if you would!

- - - - - - - - - -

_**I open my eyes. **_

_**I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light. **_

_**I can't remember how. **_

_**I can't remember why **_

_**I'm lying here tonight.**_

Dean closed his eyes, opened them slowly, closed them again. Hoped against hope that it was an illusion, that he wasn't standing in this place, with a sympathetic doctor who couldn't really _know_ telling him that his brother wouldn't ever come back to him.

_Brain dead…_it sounded so…scientific. So _medical_. Which was absolutely absurd, considering how they had ended up here in the first place. _Brain dead…_he _had_ to be dreaming.

But when he opened his eyes again, he didn't find another crappy motel room with Sam over in the next bed, or even the guest bedroom at the Summers house. What he did find was a blinding white, cold waiting room, and a sad, tired-looking doctor who had been talking for the past few minutes without being heard at all.

"I'm sorry for your loss," was the next thing that registered with Dean.

Dean saw red, and the next thing he knew he had the doctor pinned against a wall, and the desire to snap that scrawny little neck was nearly overwhelming.

"No. You don't get to say that. You don't even know us. You…you don't know _him_."

"Sir, I know how you feel, but…"

Dean's grip tightened, and his arm came up to rest against the doctor's neck, pinning the man to the wall. "No, you don't. You have _no idea_ how I feel."

I _don't know how I feel…_

"Dean…"

A careful hand rested on his arm, and he very nearly broke it on sheer principle. But that impulse faded almost instantly, unlike the urge to kill this stupid little doctor-man.

"Dean, you need to calm down," the person continued, and Dean recognized Angel's voice. "This isn't the way to handle it." He tugged on Dean's arm, and Dean reluctantly let the doctor go.

The hand left his arm, and for no apparent reason, Dean swayed.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to go down._

_**And I can't stand the pain. **_

_**And I can't make it go away. **_

_**No I can't stand the pain.** _

"Is he okay?"

"I think so."

"It's probably just the shock of it all."

"You mean the shock of his brother going evil and then brain dead?"

"Could we pretend you _don't_ have such a way with words, Anya?"

"She's right, though. And I don't think the exhaustion is helping either."

Dean wanted nothing more than for the voices to stop. They did unimaginable things to his already aching head. He also wanted to know what they were talking _about_.

"What the hell…?"

"Oh, hi, Dean."

Dean winced as Anya's still overly-cheerful voice grated on him. He opened his eyes, and it occurred to him that he was lying down. _Thank God…it was a dream after all…_ And then he looked around, and his heart dropped another little bit in his chest. He was actually lying across a row of the surprisingly comfortable chairs of the waiting room. The others were all crowded around him, and the doctor was still there, and not looking _too_ angry about nearly being strangled.

"I passed out?"

"Yeah, but only for a few seconds. Less than a minute, anyway. That doctor you tried to kill gave you a once-over and said you'd be fine. How do you feel?" Cordelia asked.

Dean looked at her incredulously, and he wasn't the only one.

"Right. Stupid question. I've come up with a lot of them, but that one took the cake."

Dean should have felt the anger again, but he didn't. He stood up, and instead of looking at any of his…friends? _Were_ they friends?…he turned to face the doctor, still feeling no remorse about what he'd done.

"Take me to him."

_**How could this happen to me? **_

_**I've made my mistakes. **_

_**Got nowhere to run. **_

_**The night goes on **_

_**As I'm fading away. **_

_**I'm sick of this life. **_

_**I just wanna scream. **_

_**How could this happen to me?** _

Watching as the doctor led Dean away, Cordelia felt a sudden rush of sadness. It had been preying on her since she had first seen Sam fall, but only now was it hitting full-force. Not just sadness for Dean—though that was in no short supply—but also for herself, in a way.

_Someone like me...someone_ alive...

It had been so long since she'd talked to someone who knew what the visions felt like. There was no one who really understood…not since…

"The police are gonna be here soon," Willow commented softly, getting carefully to her feet. "The station was over-the-top busy—no surprise, considering what's been going on—but that won't last for long. We should have something to tell them."

"Well, we left the weapons in the graveyard, so at least we don't have to get all explain-y about those," Buffy said. "But…I'm no good at cover stories."

"Same here. The only thing I can suggest is that we _not_ let them in on the fact that we caused the hundreds of corpses in the graveyard," Tara said.

Kurama was still sitting, utterly exhausted, with Hiei stretched out across three seats next to him. The battle had taken the most out of the two of them, and now neither of them seemed willing to move unless strictly necessary. They had been so silent that everyone jumped when Kurama spoke. "They'll want to talk to Dean."

Angel shook his head. "No. We'll find a way to keep them off his back. He's unstable right now. He'd either kill them or himself. It's a toss-up at this point."

"Well, you know I'm in. Lying to cops…my idea of fun," Xander said without a trace of a smile.

Giles sighed. "Yes, well, you two have fun with that. I, for one, could use some sleep."

"Oh, me, too," Anya said. "So…um…why are we here again?"

"Um…because we're needed, sweetie, remember?" Xander reminded her, with that infinite patience he seemed to possess toward his girlfriend.

"But we can't do anything here…"

"Anya, it's not about _doing_ something. We just need to be here for each other. Be available. That's what humans do."

Anya groaned. "I will _never_ get used to all this human stuff."

"Hey, Angel?" Cordelia said softly. Angel turned to her, and she wasn't surprised to see understanding in his eyes. She hardly ever had to explain herself to him, after all.

"Go on. We'll wait for the cops. Sticking around and talking to them will be a new experience for me."

Cordelia smiled at him and headed in the direction of Sam's room.

_**Everybody's screaming. **_

_**I try to make a sound but no one hears me. **_

_**I'm slipping off the edge. **_

_**I'm hanging by a thread. **_

_**I wanna start this over again.**_

Sam didn't _look_ broken, lying there in a clean white hospital room in a clean white hospital bed. In fact, he looked healthier than he had in days. His skin had almost lost that paleness and had a colored tint to it, and he looked…peaceful. The ventilator he was on even gave the illusion of breathing.

Dean wasn't fooled. He wished he was—it would make him feel so much better to be fooled—but he knew his brother better than anyone, even when his brother was clinically dead. Sam wasn't in this room.

He didn't think the words, of course. He wasn't ready to admit them, even to himself. Not yet.

Sighing, he pulled up a chair close to Sam's bed, and sat down. He leaned his head in his hands for a moment, trying to piece his strength back together. Because that was what he needed most right now—not wisdom, not love, not friendship—he needed that inherent strength that was in his blood.

Right now, though, it seemed buried. Buried so deep inside that he couldn't get at it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself feel strong again. He just felt like another pathetic mass of humanity, incapable of doing anything but sitting around wallowing in his own problems.

_Is this what it is to be alone?_

_**So I try to hold onto a time when nothing mattered,**_

_**And I can't explain what happened**_

_**And I can't erase the things that I've done.**_

_**No, I can't.**_

When Dean finally mustered up the guts to reach out and slip his hand into Sam's, his grip wasn't returned. Dean had expected that. It didn't keep him from nearly crushing Sam's hand with his grip. It didn't stop him from wishing things were different.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to go down._

He had no idea how many times the thought had run through his head in the last hours, but each time it rang truer than the last. Of all the ways for a Winchester to go…

Footsteps invaded his senses before he finished the thought. He didn't move or turn around, because it didn't really matter to him if it was one of the Scooby gang, Kurama, Hiei or an unknown demonic killer bent on destruction.

"Hi, Dean."

Okay, so not a hellbeastie.

Cordelia didn't say anything else—just went over to the only other chair in the room, pulled it over, and sat down. Dean didn't look at her or speak to her or actually do anything at all.

_Please don't say you're sorry._

But Cordelia didn't even try to talk to him. She made no attempt at conversation. In fact, she sat so still and for so long that it began to creep Dean out a little. But then he glanced at her, and saw that she wasn't even watching him. Her eyes were on Sam, and suddenly it made sense.

_A psychic…who came all the way here just to meet my brother…what the hell is there to say? For either of us?_

"You know, I didn't even want a brother."

Cordelia jumped, and looked at him in surprise. He could tell she wanted very badly to say _You're talking to me. Why? We've never really spoken to each other before…_ But what she actually says was, "Really?"

"Not in the beginning. I liked being the only child—didn't have to share the attention. I would kiss him goodnight when I was little, because my mom wanted me to, but…I never played with him, or paid much attention to him. Hell, I don't even know if I…" He trailed off then.

"How did things change?" Cordelia asked, as if she still wondered where this was going.

"The night my house caught fire…do you know about that?"

"Enough."

"Well, that night, when I went into Sam's nursery, my dad handed him to me, and told me to run. So I did, without questioning it. Well, obviously, Sam was howling up a storm by then. No one likes fire, even babies who don't realize how dead it can make them. Anyway, I got him outside, and he was still crying, so I said, 'It's okay, Sammy.' Out of instinct more than because I thought it was true." Dean felt a small smile touch his face, though the last thing he felt was happiness. "And he stopped crying. Right away. I looked down, and he was just staring up at me with those big brown eyes…I swear, those eyes saw _everything_, even then—it was freaky. Still is. And…that was it. He had me." Dean's voice dropped a notch. "Forever and always."

Cordelia didn't seem to know what to say to that, but that was all right. Dean was fine without her commenting on how pathetic he'd just made himself sound.

Dean looked back at Sam again, and noted that his position hadn't changed at all. He didn't know why he took stock of that fact—it just seemed important to note.

_Am I supposed to feel better now?_ Dean wondered as he automatically moved to take Sam's hand again, before realizing he wasn't alone and jerking his hand back. _They say talking is supposed to help, but…I think I actually feel worse now._

Of course, it was difficult to tell. Dean felt so muddled, so turned around. He couldn't _begin_ to name his emotions right now. So how could he really say for certain if he felt better or worse after telling an almost complete stranger a story he'd never even told his own family?

_I'm so confused_.

Dean had no idea how long he and Cordelia sat there. Probably well over an hour. And in all that time, the room was completely silent except for the hum of the machines creating the illusion of life, and the rattle of carts outside the room. Dean spent the entire time trying to figure out his feelings, but he came to naught.

"Dean?" a voice whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

He didn't turn. "Giles."

"I know this is a bad time, but I wanted to know if there was anyone…anyone you wanted to call."

Dean didn't answer that.

"Um…if you don't feel up to it, you could give me a number and I could call."

"My father won't answer."

Giles looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"He hasn't answered his phone in over six months."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure if we left a message…"

"Doesn't mean he would come."

"What? Of course he would. He…"

"Don't. You have no idea what it's been like. He didn't come when I was dying and he won't come now."

Giles and Cordelia must have sensed that now was _not_ the time to inquire about that last bit, because they didn't touch upon the subject.

"All right. If that's what you think is best."

"It is. Now was there something else?"

"Only that we talked to the police. We had a decent cover story—"

"I don't care."

Giles fell abruptly silent at the quiet, matter-of-fact statement.

"Is _that_ it?"

Giles couldn't seem to figure out what to say.

Dean jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to face Cordelia. "Dean, I know you're angry…"

"I'm not."

Cordelia's hand dropped from his shoulder. "You're not what?"

"Angry. I'm not angry. I'm not…anything."

"I…I don't understand."

And suddenly words were tumbling out of Dean's mouth faster than he could stop them. "I don't know. I get the feeling that I _should_ be angry. And sad. And I'm not. I can't seem to feel. At all. It's like…when I nearly beat the crap out of that doctor…I reached the end of all my emotions. It sounds so movie-of-the-week, but…it's the truth."

"Dean…" Giles began, but Dean shook his head.

"No. Please, I don't want to hear any more apologies."

"I was just going to say that it's not movie-of-the-week. It's surprisingly normal for people who have—"

"I'm not normal. I should feel," Dean said quietly, still watching Sam.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to go down._

"What?" Cordelia asked.

"What 'what'?" Dean asked, confused.

"What did you just say? I didn't catch it."

Dean realized only then that he must have spoken his thoughts aloud. "Nothing. Never mind."

"No, nuh-uh. You've been wanting to say something all night. You just let slip. What's wrong?"

"I just…it shouldn't have happened this way," Dean said quietly. He didn't know why he told her, or what had put him in such an expansive mood, but once again the words were streaming out beyond his control. "He was alone, and probably afraid. He wasn't even under his own control. It shouldn't have _happened_ that way."

Understanding flooded Cordelia's and Giles' faces at the same time.

"We Winchesters…we always say we're going to go out fighting. But Sam…he wasn't even in his own _body_ when this happened. It shouldn't…he should be…it's all _wrong_. When did it all go so _wrong_?" The last part came out as a sort of half-shout half-wail, and he dropped back into his chair—when had he stood up, anyway?—and dropped his head into his hands. "Damnit…"

"Dean, listen to me," Giles said. "You're wrong. Your brother was possessed, true. But at the end…he came back."

Dean jerked in surprise. "He what?"

"He broke the power the demon had over his body. The only thing I can figure out is that he somehow felt what was happening to us and fought harder. And at the end…" Giles drew in a deep breath. "Your brother was a conduit so that one of the most powerful known demons could reach into the world. The forces inside him would have torn him apart. To break free, hold back that tide, and force the demon to do _his_ bidding—it must have taken all of his untapped strength. That, combined with the damage already done to his body, must have been what caused…this."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Don't you see, Dean?" Cordelia said. "Sam wasn't defenseless or useless. That power would have destroyed all of us. Sam saved all of our lives by giving his. He's a true, honest-to-God, old-fashioned, storybook hero."

"It shouldn't have happened." And with those four words…suddenly "it" was _real_. Sam lying in this room, only kept "alive" by machines, his spirit and mind so far away as to be out of reach of the closest person in the world to him—it wasn't a terrible nightmare, or some figment of an exhausted imagination. It was true.

Dean's baby brother…the only person who was constantly at his side, even when they were separated by an entire continent…the only person left who _mattered_…was gone. Forever.

And still he didn't cry. He would cry later, sure. Later, it was likely that he would drain his body of moisture through his eyes. But right now…his eyes were dry. Empty.

But Dean no longer was. He wasn't an emotionless shell any longer. Now he was filled, with all the sadness and pain that Sam himself must have felt all those weeks ago when it was _Dean_ in the hospital facing death.

The feelings tore at Dean, consumed him from the inside, crushing, killing, and still it was better than the empty shell he had been since it happened.

Slowly, Dean stood up. "Tell the doctors…tell them to shut off the machines."

He was almost at the door when a voice rang out behind him. "Oh, now, come on, don't tell me you give up _that_ easily."

A split second later, Cordelia spoke, urgently, her voice tempered by shock.

"Giles, get Angel. Now."

_**How could this happen to me?**_

_**I made my mistakes. **_

_**Got nowhere to run. **_

_**The night goes on **_

_**As I'm fading away. **_

_**I'm sick of this life. **_

_**I just wanna scream. **_

_**How could this happen to me?** _

"Oh, my God," Cordelia breathed as she stared at the small, brown-haired man standing on the other side of Sam's bed. "This is _unbelievable_." She seemed rooted to the floor, and the expression on her face was the very definition of a Polaroid opportunity.

"Wha—_who _are you?" Dean asked.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt anyone," the guy said, but he sounded distracted, and he didn't take his eyes off Cordelia.

"That's not what I asked." _Good to know, though_. "Who are you?"

"Doyle…" a voice said from the doorway.

"Thank you," Dean said, turning to face Angel, who was standing in the doorway, looking a whole lot less intimidating than usual due to disbelief and being perilously close to tears. _I didn't know vampires could cry…_ "Now can anyone explain how you know him or how he got in here? Or what he wants? I'd accept any of them."

"What are you…how…?" Angel spluttered, ignoring him.

"I gotta say, I expected a much better reunion. Y'know, banners, cake, the works," Doyle said, looking oblivious to all the grief around him.

"Are you…I mean, can we…?" Cordelia seemed to be having just as much trouble as Angel in getting her words out, and Dean had the impression that getting any actual, solid information out of any of these three was going to take a while.

"I'm not alive or solid or anything, if that's what you're trying to ask," Doyle said frankly. "And I can't stay that—"

"Hey, guys," Xander said as he came up behind Angel.

"What's up?" Tara asked as she joined them.

"Giles seemed sort of…confused," Buffy added.

"Who's that tiny man?" Anya threw in her question.

"And how;d he get in?" Willow asked.

"Is he dangerous?" Giles asked.

"It seems we've missed something," Kurama observed, looking from shocked Angel to shocked Cordelia to completely at ease Doyle as he and Hiei walked into the room.

"Guys!" Angel said, a little too loudly. Everyone's eyes flicked to him, but he was still staring at Doyle, who was watching Cordelia, who didn't seem to be noticing any of this. "Could you…leave us alone for a little while?"

For some reason, him saying that caused a thought to strike Dean. "Yeah, you guys should go. You know, back home. Thanks for staying, really, but…there's nothing you can do here."

They all looked rather inclined to argue—explosively—but the air was tense enough already. Willow was first to agree. "Yeah. Let's go, guys. We all need some sleep anyway. But we want details tomorrow," she added. "_Big_ details." Then, to Dean's enormous shock, she came over and gave him a one-armed hug. "You'll come see us before you leave, right?"

"You have my stuff," he reminded her, and he almost succeeded in sounding casual.

"Right. Um…bye, then."

Once they were all gone, Dean turned back to Cordelia, Angel and Doyle. None of them had moved.

"Okay, so is anyone going to…"

"I missed you guys," Doyle said, interrupting him.

"We missed you, too. You have no idea how much," Cordelia said.

Dean sighed and sat down, resigning himself to a wait.

"How've you guys been?" Doyle asked.

"Oh, y'know, world-saving, visions, migraines," Cordelia replied. "I could _kill_ you for that, by the way, if you weren't already…you know…"

"Yeah. I'm really sorry about that. I just didn't have a lot of time to think, and…"

"Doyle, relax. I was kidding. Seriously, it's not…so bad."

"I gotta say, though, I really wish _you_ still had them," Angel added.

"Me, too. Mostly 'cause it would mean I was alive."

_Okay, I _really_ want to ask some questions now…_ Dean thought.

"So…what are you doing here?" Angel asked.

Doyle smiled. "You should know. I'm a messenger."

"So…you have a message for us?" Cordelia asked, puzzled. "That's why you beamed down? Must be seriously Armageddon-y…"

"Actually, it's not for you. You guys being here is just a fringe benefit. The _message_ is for you, Dean."

Dean's first instinct was to ask how the hell Doyle knew his name, but that was overpowered by other important questions. "A message. From who? And you used to have _visions?_ And…you're dead? A spirit? So why aren't you attacking us?" _I…am confused_.

"Yes. I died about two years ago. Maybe a little less. I passed my visions onto Cordy here when I did. I'm not killing you because I don't kill. And as for what I am…that's why I'm here."

Doyle motioned for Angel and Cordelia to make themselves comfortable, and he himself sat down on the edge of Sam's bed. Dean wanted, very badly, to yell at the weirdo to get away from his brother, but…the guy _did_ say he didn't want to hurt them. _Besides, without salt or guns or anything I'm useless._

"First of all, I think you should know that I'm from…a higher plane," Doyle began.

"You mean like Heaven?" Dean asked skeptically, and Doyle chuckled.

"Not exactly. It's just one of the _non_-Hell dimensions. Not exactly paradise but not a place of eternal torture. It's not that bad, actually. Just…_boring,_ when I'm not working."

"You _work_? Are you serious?"

"Yep. Basically the same way I did when I was alive, only now I answer directly to the PTB instead of just waiting for the visions to hit."

"The PTB? What the hell kind of organization is that?" Dean asked.

"That's what Cordy here calls the Powers That Be," Doyle explained. "Or sometimes the Problems That Be, depending on her mood."

"The _Powers That Be_! Okay, now you're kidding."

"I assure you, I'm not. They mostly just watch this plane without interfering, unless something real important is going on, but they're as real as you are."

"You mean…there was some higher power watching us this whole time…and they just _let_ my brother get possessed and then _killed_?" Dean asked, his voice suddenly quietly lethal.

"Not strictly true, actually. That's why they sent me. I was Sam's…well, 'guide' is sort of a loose term, but…the PTB sent me here when they caught wind of this possibility," Doyle said, his cheerful demeanor not affected one iota by Dean's anger.

"You mean the _possibility_ of my brother's body being taken over by an evil psycho. Well, you did a _great_ job preventing that. Really, they should promote you and give you a new office in the Slacker Corporation," Dean snapped.

"See, that's what I keep _telling_ them—without the Slacker Co. thing. But does anyone listen to the little guy? Nope. Anyways, I actually did exactly what I was supposed to do—which, by the way, _didn't_ involve stopping this from happening."

"You'd better explain what you're talking about before I find a way to kill a ghost," Dean growled.

Doyle smiled. "Y'know, that rage is pretty useful on the battlefield, but in civilized conversations it's actually considered polite not to show it. But hey, I give you serious points for being so protective of your family."

"Doyle," Angel said, "please keep in mind that Dean has only known you for a few minutes, and he hasn't had time to get used to your ways yet. He probably won't be so positively affected by your never-ending ability to make jokes at the worst possible times."

"You're right, I _didn't_ think of that," Doyle said, and he sounded sincere. "Sorry, Dean. Fine, I'll cut the jokes and get right to the point. Your brother being possessed…we wanted that to happen. Well, let me rephrase—we _needed_ it to happen, because it was the only way to take care of that demon, which has been on the PTB's radar for a _long_ time now. You know, since like the beginning of man."

"So you were…_happy_ about an innocent person being possessed by evil, then?"

"Not exactly. I can't speak for them, of course, but I, for one, was actually mega-unhappy about it. That's why I asked for the job of watching over the kid, see—ever since that first dream he had, sending you two to Japan. That was what alerted us. Anyway, I've been appearing in your brother's dreams since then."

"…Why?" Dean asked. "I mean, if you couldn't stop it, then what was the point?"

Doyle shrugged. "I had to steer him toward the demon. Put him on the right track."

"So you not only _allowed_ this to happen, but you helped _cause_ it?" Dean asked loudly, jumping out of his chair.

"Look, I don't like it any more than you do. I like your brother, I really do, and I wish it didn't have to turn out this way. But we didn't choose him, specifically—it could have been anyone."

"Not really making me feel better, little Irish man."

Doyle sighed. "Jeez, is there _any_ way to win with you?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Well, anyway, we had no choice in the matter. This thing had to be killed and we couldn't do it ourselves so we waited until it found someone to possess again and luckily it was someone who had people that already knew about demons to back him up. And you guys know the rest—you came, you conquered, no more demon. Congrats. And that's pretty much the story. I came to watch your brother, I did my job, and I'm here to finish it up. The _good_ kind of finish, too, so stop _glaring_ at me!"

"There is no 'good' in this," Dean said softly, looking back at his brother as he sat back down.

"Oh, is that what you think? Well, would you change your mind if I told you I could bring your brother back?"

The silence was loud enough to make Dean's ears. Then Dean said, so quietly he could barely be heard, "I swear to God and the PTB and whoever else is out there…if you're messing with me, man, there's gonna be Hell to pay."

Doyle shook his head. "I said I was cutting the jokes, remember?" When Dean didn't smile, he sighed. "Look, seriously, no games here. I have permission to bring your brother back to life."

"There's a catch, isn't there?" Cordelia asked.

And now Doyle's good cheer faded, and he looked just sad. "Yeah. Yeah, there is."

"Of course. There's always a catch."

"Tell me," Dean said firmly.

"Well…y'see, your brother has already gone to the higher plane. Getting him back will have…complications," Doyle said. "They sort of involve Sam coming back without a single memory of you, your family, your friends, or anything you two have done in his entire life."

_**I made my mistakes.**_

_**I've got nowhere to run. **_

_**The night goes on **_

_**As I'm fading away. **_

_**I'm sick of this life. **_

_**I just wanna scream. **_

_**How could this happen to me?** _

- - - - - - - - - -

AN: Well, that's it. One chapter left. Now, I know what some of you are probably thinking: _Finally, she's done dragging it out! _And yet again, I swear I didn't mean for it to go this long! I kinda got carried away, I guess…but you'll forgive that—and how evil I am with the end of this chapter--and read the last of it, right? Please?

Oh, and also, I'm changing my username. Actually, as most of you read this, it's probably already changed. Just wanted to let you know so you won't have to be wondering who this random new person is who stole my story.

- - - - - - - - - -

**"He proffered, with good grace, his bare neck to the blade, and feigned a cheerful face: he scorned to seem afraid." –Gawain and the Green Knight **

**"Man is harder than iron, stronger than stone, and more fragile than a rose." –Turkish proverb **

**"Return this man to Huma's breast.  
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.  
Grant to him a warrior's rest  
And set the last spark of his eyes  
Free from the smothering clouds of wars,  
Upon the torches of the stars.  
Let the last surge of his breath  
Take refuge in the cradling air  
Above the dreams of ravens, where  
Only the hawk remembers death.  
Then let his shade to Huma rise  
Beyond the wild, impartial skies." **

**–Solmanic Prayer to the Dead, Dragonlance Saga **


	16. Chapter 15: When It's Over

AN: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_! I _swear_ I didn't mean to take this long! I don't know what _happened_! I have been writing, really, I have! A _lot_! But still this chapter took forever to write. But it _is_ the chapter that wraps everything up…

Well, anyway, enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - -

Dean's mind went absolutely blank for a long moment. When he was able to think again, all he _could_ think was, _It's not possible…they can't _do_ that to us…_

"You've _gotta_ be kidding me."

It wasn't Dean who said it—no, _he_ could barely form these small thoughts, much less put them into words. Cordelia, though, apparently had no problem with that. "I mean, what kind of higher power strips someone of _themselves_ before sending them home? Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding."

"Well, actually, I am, and I woulda said so if you'd stop chattering," Doyle said, cutting off her rant.

Dean didn't look away from Sam when Doyle said that. He couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like he meant.

"_Doyle_," Angel growled. "If you're saying you were joking about him having amnesia…well, it's a good thing for you that you're untouchable."

"Well, like I told Sam, I have to get my jollies _somehow_…thought I gotta admit, that…wasn't really as funny as it seemed in my head." Doyle sighed. "Dean?"

Dean looked up slowly, and Doyle looked sympathetic now. "Let's just forget what I said, okay? I…well, like Angel said, it's a good thing you guys can't get your hands on me."

"What exactly are you saying?" Dean asked flatly. "Because I'm sick and tired of _all_ of this."

Doyle sighed again, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, it's like this. You, and your brother, are two of our champions. Angel here is another one, only, uh…more connected."

"Champion. Okay, sure. I'm a champ. I get a gold metal. You're trying my patience."

"Well, see, the kind of champions you are don't get prizes, exactly. It's just sort of a save-humanity deal. Not something you choose, just…well, you get the idea. You became one pretty much the night your mother died. So did Sam, and your father two. And there aren't many, either. So when one of you guys is in danger, the PTB likes to watch them."

"So you're saying…" Dean let himself trail off, hardly daring to hope…again.

"I'm saying I think I really can give you your brother back, good as new—memories and all."

Dean looked steadily at him, using all his reserves to remain stoic. "Worst-case scenario?"

"Your brother's soul really has moved on since I got here. And if that _is_ true, then Sam really will come back without his memories. Are you willing to take the chance of dragging him out of an almost-paradise back to this world?"

Dean looked back at Sam, lying there, an empty shell of himself. He thought about the risks, and about where Sam might be right now, and how happy his brother might be.

"Do it."

XXX

For all the talk beforehand, the ritual to get Sam's soul back into his body actually only took about five minutes. Doyle didn't make any preparations—a fact that wasn't lost on some of the more keen-eyed members of the group.

"Hey, don't you need a channel? Like an Orb of Thessulah or something?" Angel asked.

"Oh…no. It's a power thing," Doyle said simply. "Hey, someone check for nurses before you all get kicked out of here."

A minute later, Cordelia pronounced the coast clear, and Doyle requested that they get quiet so that he wouldn't be distracted and botch the whole thing. Then he placed a careful hand on Sam's head, and the other on his chest.

There was no chanting or anything of the sort. For a few endless moments Doyle just stood there silently, eyes closed. Then, without warning, Doyle removed his hands and said, "It's done."

And then the monitors changed their pattern of incessant, steady beeps. Dean looked from them, to Sam, who showed no outward differences.

"It worked? Then why isn't he waking up, Doyle?" Dean asked dangerously.

"Because I did all the basic healing, but his body will take a while to recharge. He should be awake within a day, though."

"And…and will he have his memory…when he does?" Dean asked.

"I can't say where his soul came from. You won't know until he wakes up. It's pretty much 50/50," Doyle said.

"Still…um…thank you," Dean said awkwardly. "For…you know…"

"I think not exorcising me when I made all those horrible jokes at your expense said it for me," Doyle said with a chuckle. Then he sighed deeply. "Okay, I need to beat it now. I've already been here longer than I was supposed to stay."

"But…I mean…do you have to?"

"Afraid so, Princess. Duty calls and all." Doyle smiled gently. "But back up. I doubt it'll be the last time we see each other. No tears, okay?"

Cordelia sniffed. "Yeah, like I'd cry over _you."_

"That's the spirit."

Angel spoke up then. "Doyle, I…I…"

Doyle looked at him, and his smile grew. "I know."

Angel nodded.

"Well, then…catch you on the flip side, I guess."

XXX

The nurse at the front desk was just coming in for the four A.M. shift when room 314 rang for a doctor. The nurse checked her file, and frowned in confusion. "Samuel Winchester…?" she muttered, going to the phone. She paged Dr. Greenwalt. Then, too curious for her own good, she went to the room herself.

She found three people there—one sitting in a chair, hand resting on the arm of the man in the bed. The other two—a young woman and a tall, pale man in dark clothing—were standing on the far side of the room.

"Did someone in here call?"

The man in the chair—if the nurse remembered correctly, he was Samuel's cousin, Greg—though they seemed far closer than that—turned and said, with extraordinary calm, "Yeah. I did. Look."

The nurse looked to the monitors he was pointing at, and bit back a gasp. "That's…not possible…" she murmured.

"Maybe not, but it's happened. And now you need to do the stuff people do in hospitals."

"Well, I-I've pages the doctor. He's on his way," the nurse explained. Then, mostly to have something to do, she began checking all the machines and Samuel's IV.

She received another shock when she found nothing wrong with the machines—they were all reading correctly.

_Brain activity in a brain-dead patient. How is it _possible

XXX

Dean didn't loosen his grip on his brother's arm the whole time that Dr. Greenwalt looked him over. He was asked to move a couple of times, but in the end, he won out, of course.

The doctor just couldn't seem to get over it. He kept murmuring, "How?" and "It's impossible" at random intervals. Just when Dean was ready to toss him out the three-story window, Greenwalt stepped away from Sam and looked at Dean. "Greg—"

Dean wondered for a moment who he was talking to, then remembered his alias. "Hmm?"

"I need to ask you…when did this happen?"

"Uh…about forty-five minutes ago," Dean replied. "He didn't wake up, but…his pulse changed."

"Uh-huh. Thank you…" Greenwalt said distractedly.

"Excuse me, but…is he gonna be all right?" Cordelia asked, having reached the end of her patience.

Greenwalt looked absolutely baffled as he answered. "As far as I can tell…yes. It doesn't make any sense, but…he seems fine. Still unconscious, obviously, but it doesn't seem permanent. It's…"

"Yeah. I know. A miracle. Unprecedented. Unbelievable. All words to describe it," Dean said irritably.

"Listen…I never actually found out how you came to be here in the first place. What—"

"Okay. Well, thank you for your time. We'll keep an eye on him until he wakes up, You can check on him again then," Angel said, already guiding Greenwalt out of the room.

"I think he should be monitored by a professional—"

"I'm practiced at this," Dean said. "Not the first time he's been in a hospital, which you would know if you looked at all into your patients' files. I know what to watch for, so you don't have to worry about it. Oh, and one more thing before you go. I need you to take out his ventilator."

Greenwalt shook his head. "I really must insist on that point—it should be kept the way it is until we know for sure he'll keep breathing on his own."

"No. Sam can't do ventilators. He panics. And not just any little freak-out, either. It's bad. I'm not putting him through that. Not after all this. And you can't leave it without consent."

So, looking extremely unhappy about it, Greenwalt removed Sam's ventilator. Sam's chest continued to rise and fall without it, and Dean felt a lump grow in his throat.

As Greenwalt was leaving, Dean's voice again stopped him. "Oh, and one other thing, Doctor. This whole thing—Sam's 'miracle' and all—it doesn't get out. At all. It stays between you, us in this room, and it _doesn't_ get out of this hospital. Understand?"

"Of course," Dr. Greenwalt said, looking so offended that Dean actually felt bad. "Doctor-patient confidentiality clause. I _never_ break it," he added as he left.

"Well, on that note…Dean, don't you want to go back to Buffy's and get some sleep?" Cordelia asked.

"No," Dean said flatly.

"Well, I'm not saying you should move in or anything, but…don't you think just a couple of hours of rest would—I mean, you haven't slept since I met you, you look like crap now, you've been through hell and it's like five in the morning. And Angel here can watch over Sam…"

"No. I…I need to be here when he wakes up."

Cordelia smiled. "All righty, then. But I think someone should go and give the good news. And I'm guessing you'd like to be alone with him when he—so Angel and I'll go, okay? Okay…"

Dean smiled back at her, and it felt strange, but so good. "Thank you." And _that_ felt strange, too.

"Call us when he wakes up," Angel said. "I'd like to…meet him."

"Same here. I'm really happy for you," Cordelia added with a smile.

"I'm happy for me, too."

Dean turned back to Sam as they left, and his hand strayed back to rest on his brother's wrist, over his pulse. _It's beating…_

XXX

Dean didn't even get up out of that chair for the rest of the day. Nor did he doze off, though once or twice his eyes fell closed without his permission or approval. Every time this happened, though, he would snap to in less than half a minute, feeling obscurely guilty for neglecting his vigil.

The first time Sam actually moved, actually turned on his side to face Dean, it was like day and night and sun and star all rolled into one. Dean found his heart jumping into his throat as Sam's hair fell forward over his face like it always did when he slept, and before he thought about it he was reaching forward and pushing it back. Sam jerked and slapped his hand away irritably, mumbling in his sleep, like he always did when Dean touched or teased him about the "mop."

Dean cried.

It was only for a moment, and then he managed to catch himself. Seriously, how pathetic was he, getting all teary over his brother's _hair_? But even after he held back the actual flow, the _feeling_ of tears remained.

They irritated him, made him feel vulnerable and childish and so many things that just weren't _Dean_.

So, instinctively, he fell back on the thing that always made him feel like the older brother, the strong one, again. He thought about just how much he was going to kill Sam when he woke up. Well, not _literally_, obviously—but there was going to be a lot of yelling and screaming and scolding.

And some new rules about getting oneself possessed by an evil demonic creature and then _dying_.

Dean reached out and rearranged the pillows under Sam's head, and it was only then that he noticed one was missing—it was in Sam's arms. _What the—?_ Dean wondered idly as he reached out and took the pillow from his brother.

Sam groaned softly.

Dean looked swiftly at him, but the other man's eyes were still closed, so Dean naturally assumed he had imagined it, and when back to wondering about the pillow he himself now held and planning his lecture.

"Oh, crap…"

Dean nearly tipped the chair over in his surprise. His head swiveled around to Sam so quickly he felt his neck crick. He found Sam's eyes wide open, staring at him, full of confusion.

Dean's heart plummeted like Shamu in those Sea World commercials. _He doesn't remember…_

"…Why're you holding that pillow?"

XXX

Sam's awakening was almost exactly as it had been three days before in Japan: painless but slow and exhausting. In fact, for a few moments he just lay there, trying to remember what had happened to him _now_. It must have been _something,_ for him to be so tired…

And then it came rushing back, all at once, and Sam's eyes snapped open. Images flew through his mind—memories of a killing, terrible pain, of being caught in gray, and then of that one moment of utter clarity just before he fell into the black.

"Oh, crap…"

A small noise caught his attention when he spoke aloud. He looked around—taking in the plain whiteness and machinery that always meant _hospital room_—and his eyes fell on his brother. Dean was sitting in a chair as close to the bed as he could get. He wasn't actually touching Sam, but his hand was resting next to him. His other arm was wrapped around a pillow so tightly the thing was practically folded in half.

"…Why're you holding that pillow?"

The next thought he had was that he now knew what that pillow felt like, because the hug that Dean jumped forward to give him now was quite sufficient to crush all the air from his lungs.

He _tried_ not to freak out, he really did. But seriously, the last time his brother had hugged him like this, he had been half-collapsed on the lawn of a Stanford dorm, reeling from his girlfriend's death. "Dean, what…?" he murmured, even as his arms came up to clasp his brother reassuringly.

Dean's arms tightened briefly, and then, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing, he leaned back, resting his hands on Sam's shoulders. He looked Sam carefully in the eye, his own oddly bright. "Damn it, Sammy, I cannot _believe_ how much I'm going to kill you."

"Dean, what's going on? What happened?" Sam asked, gently. "I mean, you look…you _sound_…terrible. And…well, I remember almost everything except…well, the last of it. Did I …I mean, did anyone…um…die?"

Dean just looked at him, and the realization struck suddenly.

"Oh…I did," Sam said weakly. Dean nodded tightly. "Hence the reason you're gonna kill me?"

"Really, really a lot, yeah," Dean said, but his voice was unsteady and his hands trembled a little as he let go of Sam and stood up.

"Well…uh…how long?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced at his watch. "Eighteen hours and forty-seven minutes exactly."

Sam smiled at that, though he was still concerned about his brother. "And…and how did I get…back? I mean, how am I not…dead now?"

"Well, technically, you weren't dead in the first place," Dean explained, voice so casual that Sam knew he was rapidly falling apart—or maybe he already had. "Well, not your body, anyway. Just whatever's in that freaky head of yours. And you got to come back because of your 'guide'…"

"Doyle? Doyle was _here_?" Sam asked, shocked. "But he said he couldn't allow humans to know he existed…he even wiped my memory every time I saw him in my dreams…"

Dean shrugged. "Things change, I guess."

"Come on, bro, spill—"

"Oh, my goodness," a voice said from the doorway. Dean and Sam both turned quickly, and saw a nurse in the doorway. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes as she murmured, "You…woke up."

"Yeah. Doc said it was gonna happen," Dean snapped. "In fact, why don't you go get him?"

"Wow…that was kinda…rude," Sam commented as the nurse left again.

Dean shrugged. "You try spending half the night and a day with these people and see how polite _you_ are. Plus, the sooner you get checked over the sooner they will let us _leave_."

"Well, I'm all for that part," Sam agreed. "But they'll want to keep me here, at least overnight, probably longer. For 'observation.' In other words, to find out exactly why I'm _not_ dead. Hey, what if—"

"No one will publicize this. Already laid down _that_ law," Dean informed him. "And they'll _want_ you to stay, sure, but _wanting_ you to and being able to _make _you—those are different things completely. You're all right…you _are_ all right, aren't you?" he interrupted himself suddenly, looking again at Sam.

Sam nodded and smiled. "I'm fine. Promise."

"Good. So we're just gonna get that checked out to make sure and then we'll get outta this hell-hole. Whatever they say about it."

Sam suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Uh…Dean? How're we gonna pay the bill?"

"You let me worry about that. I'll figure…something out."

XXX

"I _strongly_ advise against this," Dr. Greenwalt murmured, reluctantly signing the last of Sam's release forms.

Dean shrugged. "Well, it's a good thing it's our decision, then. As in, mine and his."

"Dean," Sam murmured, embarrassed, from where he sat on the bed. They had managed to procure him some sweats, and he was more than ready to go. "Don't be so grumpy."

Dean grunted irritably, but as Greenwalt handed him the forms to sign, a small smile darted across his face. He jotted his signature across every form and then handed them to Sam. "Your turn, geek. Hurry up, I wanna get _out_."

"My sentiments exactly," Sam muttered. He did hurry, too—in less than thirty seconds he was done, and Dean helped him to his feet—he was a little unsteady but not in much danger of actually falling.

"Dean, seriously," Sam whispered as the brothers walked behind Dr. Greenwalt toward the front desk. "How do you plan to pay for my room time? Didn't you check me in under my own name?"

"Yeah. But _I_ am, at the moment, your esteemed cousin _Greg_…who…uh…neglected to get himself a credit card. Oh, hell…"

XXX

**The Summers Home**

"Oh, my God, you're here!"

The ear-splitting screech came the second Willow opened the door, and she threw an arm awkwardly around Sam's neck. Startled, but also secretly pleased, Sam hugged her back. As she stepped away, he took in her bound-up arm and said softly, "I'm so sorry, Willow."

She grinned and shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"Hey, Willow," Dean broke in. "I have a question for any and all of you and now seems like as good a time as any to—"

"You're back! Hey, guys, they're back!" Xander called into the kitchen as he came over to clasp Sam's arm warmly. He clapped Dean's shoulder and asked, "You guys all right?"

"We're good," Dean replied. He didn't realize that he slurred his speech, but Xander and Willow did, and so did everyone else as they crowded into the hall.

"Are you sure? Because you look tired," Tara said, looking concerned even as she smiled shyly at the brothers.

"I'm not. Really," Dean told her.

"Oh, you are so full of crap," a voice snapped irritably, from the back of the group. Sam looked confused as Cordelia came forward, dragging Angel behind her, and Dean suddenly remembered that he'd never officially met either of them. "Anyone could see that you're dead on your feet. And your brother's gonna need his rest, too, in case you didn't figure it out. Hi, I'm Cordelia."

Sam felt a slow smile spread across his face as he shook her hand. _This must be the psychic, then. She's…not what I expected._

"And Tall, Dark and Undead here is Angel," Cordelia added, bringing the vampire forward.

Sam reached out to shake his hand, and jumped a little. If he had any doubts that Angel was actually a vampire before, they had been laid to rest—the hand was ice cold.

"Oh, good, you didn't burst into flames on the way over here," Dean said.

"Yeah, beat the sunrise. It's nice to meet you, uh…"

"Just call me Sam. And…do you even _have_ a last name?" Sam asked curiously.

"If I did once, I've long forgotten it," Angel replied.

"Well, anyway," Cordelia broke in. "You two should get some sleep. Like, right now. My personal opinion—which, you have to admit, counts _a lot_."

Dean smiled at her—honestly, he had smiled more in the last five minutes than he had all week—and said, "Wanna come with me?"

"DEAN!" Sam thundered.

Cordelia, though, just giggled. "Seriously, if that's the best he can come up with, you shouldn't be too worried anyone will fall for it."

"Hey, I'm tired! Give a guy a break—"

"Aha! So you admit it!" Cordelia said triumphantly. "I win, which means bedtime for you two. _Alone_. And me. And probably everyone else, too."

"Tell me about it. I haven't been so tired in _at least_ a week," Buffy said.

"Yes, I feel quite old at the moment," Giles added.

"We should hit the road," Anya said to Xander. "We can go back to the apartment and have post-battle-and-major-trauma s—"

"Okay, An, let's go then!" Xander said, much too loudly and much too quickly.

"You guys are staying?" Buffy asked Cordelia and Angel.

"Well…I guess so," Angel said uncomfortably. "I can't leave the house…"

"That's okay. But there's nowhere—"

"We don't mind the floor in the living room," Cordelia said.

"You realize that means rooming with Giles, right?" Willow asked.

"As long as he doesn't snore."

"I assure you I do not!" Giles said, looking highly offended.

"There are blankets and stuff in the hall closet," Buffy said as she, Willow and Tara headed up the stairs, and after Kurama came over to speak to the brothers for a moment, he and Hiei went outside.

"Where are they—" Angel started to ask.

"Porch. They sleep there," Dean replied casually. "C'mon, Sammy, let's get you up to bed before you call down…"

"Yeah, 'cause _I'm_ the one in danger of that," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Um…Cordelia…"

"We'll talk tomorrow…Sammy." Sam groaned, and Cordelia chuckled. "Sorry, just had to try out the nickname. Good…er…well, day, I guess."

XXX

Dean didn't actually remember walking up to the guest room with Sam, or changing his clothes, or falling onto the pallet on the floor. He didn't remember Sam trying to give him the bed, or the argument that resulted, or winning the argument and leaving Sam the bed.

The next time things were clear, it was ten o'clock at night and Sam wasn't in his bed. Dean couldn't muster up too much concern, though—there were two many people in the house for anything _else_ to happen.

Still, better check it out.

XXX

"Are you aware that it's ten P.M.?" Dean asked when he went into the kitchen and found Willow at the stove, flipping pancakes, while Tara and Giles sat at the table. "Or are those painkillers messing with your mind?"

"Yes, I know what time it is, and the only thing the drugs do is make me peppy. Come on, don't tell me you're not hungry," Willow said brightly, awkwardly flipping the pancakes left-handed.

"Baby, don't you want me to help?" Tara asked, looking concerned.

"I _told_ you, I need some way to channel my energy," Willow replied. "And this gives me a chance to become ambidextrous."

"You are the strangest girl," Giles informed her.

"You're _all_ weird," Dean snapped. "Where's my brother?"

"He and Cordelia have been in our room for like an hour now," Tara said with a grin. "Of course, no one knows what they're _doing_ in there…"

"Talking. Nothing else. I know what you're thinking, but the truth is, Sam hasn't had any in almost a year," Dean said without any joke in his voice. "For an hour, though? Seriously?"

"Mm-hmm. None of us know what it's about," Tara said.

"Mystery," Giles added.

"Not so much," Dean replied. "Sam's…he's been wondering if he was the only person with the Shining out there for…a long time now. Now that he's found someone like him…" Dean shrugged. "I wouldn't expect to see either of them for a while yet. What about everyone else?"

"You mean the hoard of people currently living in this house?" Giles asked. "Well, Xander and Anya came by earlier today, but they went back home when they found out that your nap was longer than anticipated. I have no idea where those Japanese chaps are—they haven't made a sound coming and going, so for all we know they're in this room right now. I've grown to trust them, though, so all's well. And Buffy and Angel are patrolling."

"Patrolling? Is that some British term for—"

"Dean, after being under the same roof as you for two days it doesn't take much for me to see where you're going and I beg of you to stop before you get there," Giles said, absentmindedly wiping his glasses off on his shirt. "As I said, the two of them are _patrolling_. Literally."

"For what? Muggers?" Dean mocked, falling into his easiest line of conversation.

"Vampires, demons, evil bad," Willow said, turning off the stove. "Come and get it if you want it."

"Did Sam eat?" Dean asked, going over to help himself. He took three, then looked at everyone else, determined that he was the only one eating, and took three more.

"Mm-hmm. Not _quite_ like you are, but enough." Tara smiled reassuringly at Dean. "Try not to worry so much. He seems absolutely fine."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, well, the thing about my brother—he's a great actor when he wants to be. I'd have to talk to him face-to-face to get a real idea. Then again, with all the road ahead of us…I'll have plenty of time to figure him out."

XXX

**Meanwhile, In The Guest Room**

"So you're actually awake during your visions?"

Cordelia, sitting on the floor under the window across from the bed Sam was sitting on, nodded. "Yep. Never had one in a dream before. What's _that_ like?"

Sam shrugged. "Like a nightmare, pretty much."

"So how do you tell the difference?"

"Well…" Sam said, trying to figure out how to explain it. "The visions are…clearer, but sort of not. I see things more vividly, and I feel what the people in the visions feel, and sometimes I just _know_ things. I don't…really know how to put it into words."

"I know the feeling well enough. It's probably because we've never _had_ to put it into words," Cordelia said.

"So what are yours like?" Sam asked. "I mean, I know you're awake during them, but what do you…"

"Feel?" Sam nodded. "Like you, apparently. You know, I feel what they feel, memorize the facts."

"Well, what about…do you ever feel any pain?" Sam asked. "I mean, I wake up with these headaches sometimes. Just…really horrible things. And…well, I was wondering if that was…um…"

"You are trying _really_ hard to think of a word other than 'normal'," Cordelia commented with a grin. "And yes, I get headaches. Starts out as a kind of pressure—that's how I know what's coming—and then when the pictures come the pressure kind of…explodes. And then it's just big pain." Cordelia pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "But it's nothing that can't be dealt with."

Sam looked at her for a long moment, as if he was trying to puzzle something out. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Cordelia asked.

"Make our…problem…sound so simple."

Cordelia's eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. "Simple? Are you serious? It's _anything_ but simple. Always having something to hide, covering it up if I have a vision in public, dealing with the problems of so many different people, never knowing when to expect the next one to hit…it's _never_ simple."

"I know. God, I know. But you made it _sound_ simple."

"I'm just used to playing it down, I guess. I have to do that a lot."

Sam chuckled. "Me, too. Dean hates showing it, but his concern knows no bounds. And this 'Shining deal' as he calls it causes that concern to go through the roof."

"Angel's exactly the same way. Like guard dogs, they are. But…I gotta admit, I think it's sweet."

"Well, I'm a guy, no matter how much my brother denies it. I don't think that way. To me, it's just annoying," Sam said with a smile, and then silence fell. After a while, Sam brought up a question he had been wondering about. "Hey, Cordelia? Can I ask you a really personal question?"

"'Cause everything we've talked about up to now has been open to the public. Yeah, sure, ask me anything."

"Uh…have you ever felt like a…like a freak?"

Cordelia snorted with laughed. "Oh, my God, yes. I mean, I work with…_really_ bizarre people—like Angel—but _I_ was never all _that_ unusual myself. And then Doyle passed along his visions to me, like I told you. And suddenly, I was one of the whacky ones."

"Do you resent it?"

Cordelia didn't pause to think about it. "No. No, I don't. I mean, while I'm having a vision, yeah, it kinda sucks, but mostly…no." Sam must have looked confused or disbelieving, because she continued to explain. "Sam, look at it this way. We're not exactly superheroes, you and me. I mean, I don't know about you, but I was never very good at keeping up the good fight. But with this…we have a way to help. Something all our own, that no one else has." She smiled. "It'll help you through the rough patches. And there'll be _plenty _of those."

XXX

**Meanwhile, In The Cemetery**

"Where _are_ they?" Buffy muttered for the umpteenth time, her wooden stake raised to shoulder height. "The vamps are usually like flies to a corpse around here."

"Loving the comparison," Angel said, lightly brushing a finger across an angel on a gravestone.

Buffy ignored his words. "Think they've started clearing the bodies yet?"

"I don't smell anything. They may have finished already. But we'll be at the front entrance soon, so you can take a look."

"She who spends her spare time examining stiffs," Buffy said with a sigh. "What a great _non_-paying job to have."

"Well, Buffy, saving thousands of lives sometimes requires sacrifices," Angel snapped. He didn't know why, but he was just starting to get fed up. "And it's not like no one has your back. You're not alone. Stop acting like you are."

Buffy stopped, hand falling to her side. "What is _with_ you?" she demanded. "It's like every little thing sets you off lately!"

Angel sighed. "I know. And I'm sorry for the way I've said some things. But I haven't said _one thing_ that isn't true."

"Listen, I _know_ I have a lot to be grateful for, Angel. I do. But you have _no idea_ what I've been through. You can't."

"So tell me. Let me in, Buffy. Like you used to."

She looked both angry and sad. "I thought you said things have changed."

"They have. But that doesn't mean I won't listen."

Buffy looked down for a moment, then met his gaze almost defiantly. "Look, it's nothing you need to know, okay? Just…I can't be all hugs-and-puppies, 'the world is a happy butterfly' all the time. I can't keep painting a pretty face over all the bad. If that's not a good enough explanation for my moods…well, I'm sorry."

Angel looked away and didn't say anything, and Buffy sighed. "Look, can we just patrol and not have any more deep conversation? I don't wanna get into it with you again."

"Well, we need to know where the vampires are if we're going to kill them," Angel pointed out.

"You're not gonna find anyone."

Angel jumped a little, but Buffy just turned toward the shadows around a nearby crypt and murmured coolly, "Where have you been, Spike?"

A grunt issued forth from said shadows, and a tall platinum-blond man in a long black leather coat stepped out into the light. "You worried about me, Slayer?"

"Spike," Angel said curtly, drawing the other vampires, attention. "How are you doing? Still neutered?"

Spike frowned deeply. "It's a _chip_ implanted by an evil government branch, _Liam_. I am _not _neutered," he snapped, and then turned to Buffy. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"He's helping is out. Something _you_ could have done, instead of just up and disappearing on us," Buffy snapped. "Where _were_ you?"

Spike shrugged. "I don't answer to you and your lackeys, Slayer. And for your information, I was working the underground. _That's_ where all your bads are. Not in the cemetery."

"You mean…there aren't _any_ up above?" Buffy asked, confused. "But that doesn't make any sense…"

"Sure it does. Something's scared 'em, is all it means. Something big is coming or here or—"

"Or already gone and _some_ are just too afraid to come back to the surface," Angel said pointedly.

For all the attention Spike gave him, Angel might as well not have been there. "Tell me what's happening," he said to Buffy instead, who put her stake away and sighed.

"Fine, but I need to look in at home. Come on, I'll tell you on the way back."

Angel scowled. Spike smirked.

XXX

**Back at Buffy's**

Willow was watching Dean polish off the last of the food she'd made when Buffy's doorbell rang. She glanced at Giles' watch and frowned, puzzled. "Who'd be coming here _now_? It's like eleven at night."

"Hey, do you think we're ever gonna get back on a normal sleep schedule?" Tara asked idly as Willow went to see who it was.

The redhead approached the door cautiously—you don't live long on a Hellmouth without being a little suspicious of everything. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she eyed the weapons chest nearby. She couldn't do much with a broken arm, but she was sure she would be able to hold off an attacker long enough for someone else to get there…

XXX

**Somewhere Random**

"I hate this place," Hiei muttered sullenly, his eyes passing over the streets and shops and moving to the black, smog-covered sky over Sunnydale.

"Oh, Hiei, it's not so bad," Kurama said, feeling that he should defend the home of his new friends even though his heart wasn't in the words.

"I spent ten years hiding out in an eight-by-five cave in the middle of nowhere in Makai. This is worse," Hiei insisted stubbornly.

"Well, we'll be able to go back to Tokyo soon." _Home…_

"Not soon enough," Hiei complained. "It wouldn't be soon enough if we left in the next _minute_."

"I know. But I have to wait for Koenma's orders," Kurama said unhappily. "I mean, you could go home if you—"

Hiei's withering glare cut him off mid-sentence, and he felt no urge to finish it.

"Well, anyway, just try to deal with it a little longer, love."

"I don't really have a choice."

Kurama smiled and put a hand on Hiei's shoulder, squeezing gently, and they walked in silence for a while, by some unspoken consent heading back to Buffy's house.

"Kurama, do you think they're up yet?" Hiei asked suddenly.

"I don't know. They were pretty exhausted. Why?"

"Just wondering," Hiei replied vaguely. "They're gonna ask about you, you know."

Kurama grimaced. "I know."

"What will you tell them?"

Kurama shrugged. "The truth, I guess. I mean, I did already tell them everything about my past."

"Yes, but to humans, seeing and hearing are different things. It will probably matter more now."

"But you're overlooking how much has happened to them in the last day. Still, I guess we won't know until we get back," he said as they turned onto Buffy's street.

"You know, I've memorized the entire layout of this town in the last two days," Hiei said morosely.

"Yes, it _is_ a small place, isn't it?" Kurama replied, picking up Hiei's meaning with ease.

"Small," Hiei scoffed. "The whole thing could fit in your kitchen back in Tokyo."

"You're probably right," Kurama said with a chuckle as Buffy's house came into view. "And it's so _quiet_, too. I'd almost forgotten…but I would enjoy it so much more if the plants could only grow better."

Now, Hiei would rather die than admit it—actually, Hiei would rather die than to a lot of things—but he had gotten used to the noise and bustle of big cities. A part of him had even grown to like it. You could lose yourself in cities, and sometimes, Hiei Jaganshi needed that. Right now, everything was too open, and it felt…dangerous.

Of course, he couldn't say any of that. So he just didn't say anything. But Kurama understood, and Hiei knew it, so the words didn't matter anyway.

The porch light was on when the two of them got to the house, which was odd, because it had been off when they left. Kurama didn't think too much on it, though—what did it matter, really?

No one met him in the hall, and the kitchen was completely empty. A little confused now, Kurama and Hiei headed for the living room, the only other place anyone could be besides the bedrooms or the basement. Hearing voices—very, very familiar voices—they both bolted the rest of the way and halted in the doorway.

Willow, Giles, and Tara were sitting on the couch, with Dean cross-legged on the floor at their feet. The two armchairs were taken by two young men, both of who looked worn and tired, but relieved. They both looked up, and smiles crossed their faces at almost exactly the same time.

Kurama looked from Yusuke Urameshi, to Kazuma Kuwabara, and gave an identical smile, then ran to embrace his friends,

So home must be right around the corner… 

XXX

"So it's all taken care of?" Spike asked. "Problem solved?"

"Yep. Bad guy go boom," Buffy assured him. "It was an…interesting fight, too."

"And the kid?"

"Well, first of all, 'the kid' is older than I am and about a foot taller than you are. Not actually a kid. And secondly, _Sam_ is fine. Well, as far as I could tell. He's been sleeping since seven this morning. But he _seemed_ all right. I think his brother's a little freaked, though."

"And for good reason," Angel added.

"Yeah. They seem really close. Even for brothers," Buffy said, remembering the way Dean had looked at Sam after that nightmare. "But I think they'll be okay."

"I'd like to mean this Dean guy," Spike said.

"He's not your type," Angel said flatly.

"Well, I dunno. From Buffy's description…"

"You know what? Just…stop talking, both of you," Buffy said impatiently as she went up the porch steps to her house. "And try not to look at each other," she added as she fitted her key into the lock.

Spike shrugged. "Whatever. I'm out of here, anyway."

Buffy rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door. "What a baby," she muttered, going inside. "Where is everybody?" she called, tossing her keys on the table by the door. "Answer, please!'

"Living room!" Willow's voice called. "And we have more people."

Buffy tried not to sigh too loudly. "Who?" she asked as she walked into the living room with Angel on her heels. "Oh, hey, Dean. Have a good nap? Or…uh…coma?"

Dean just nodded, and Buffy covered up the awkward moment by turning to the two new guys and saying, "Hello. Welcome to the fort. I'm Buffy Summers."

The one nearest to the door stood up and said with a smile, "We're sorry for just barging in like this. I'm Urameshi Yusuke. Uh…switch them and you have the American version."

"And I'm Kazuma Kuwabara," the other guy added.

"We're here for the other two guys on the team," Yusuke added with an impish grin. "We're thinking it's about time for them to come home, now that the job is done."

"And let me be first to voice my agreement," Kurama spike up. "Hiei would be the second except that he doesn't want to talk."

Buffy smiled. "That's good. I'm happy for you. When do you all leave?"

Kurama shrugged. "Well, Yusuke and Kuwabara have a motel room down the road, so we'll stay with them tonight. I'd like to talk to Sam before we go."

"Well, that part depends on if Sam ever comes out of that room," Dean said grumpily. "He's been in there _forever_! What could they possibly be _talking_ about?"

"Y'know, big brother, you may want to watch that tone or I'll begin to think you're accusing me of something."

Dean jumped a little and looked over to the door, where Sam stood with Cordelia. "God, Sam, don't _do_ that!" he snapped, but even as he said it a smile threatened to break his face in half.

"But it's so much fun," Sam said with an identical grin. "Hi, Yusuke. Kuwabara. It's great to see you both!"

"You're…in a good mood," Dean said, looking a little disturbed.

"Yeah, I think I am," Sam agreed, going over to sit next to his brother.

"How's your headache?"

Sam's grin widened. "Gone since I woke up in the hospital. I'd forgotten how _good_ it feels not to be in pain!"

"Well, congratulations on that," Tara said.

"Where's Cordelia?" Angel asked.

"In the kitchen, getting a snack. She told me to send you in," Sam replied.

"So…um…what did you two talk about?" Dean asked as Angel left the room. "While you were locked in that bedroom for like _three hours?_"

Sam just looked mysterious. "Sorry, bro, I'm keeping that one to myself."

Oddly enough, Dean seemed fine with that. "That's what you said after the Bloody Mary job."

"_Bloody Mary_?" Buffy gaped. "The chick in the mirror? Are you _serious?" _

"Yeah. We ran into her a few months back. Sam was keeping a secret from me them, too. But he ended up telling me and it's only a matter of time until he spills about this one," Dean said confidently.

"Whatever. Just tell me about Bloody Mary," Buffy pressed. "She's _real_?"

"You bet. And so are Women in White, Wendigos, poltergeists, ghosts, shapeshifters—there's a whole world out there beyond demons. And we could tell you some stories…but I need a question answered right now. I never got to ask last night and I forgot about it until just now." He looked hard at Buffy, then Willow, Tara, and Giles. "Which one of you paid Sam's hospital bill?" And then, as an afterthought, "And Kurama…what the _hell_ was that, back in the cemetery?"

XXX

Cordelia was sitting at the kitchen table, dripping tea into a cup from a bag. Angel stood by the counter for a moment, watching her, looking for any hint of what was on her mind.

He came up with nothing. She seemed perfectly fine.

"Cordelia?"

"You can't wait to go home, can you?"

Angel didn't feel the shock he should have—only confusion. _This_ was what she wanted to talk about?

"Am I that obvious?" he asked, going over to sit next to her.

"Only to someone who pays attention. Ergo—to set your mind at ease—I don't think Buffy noticed how much you don't like being here."

Angel sighed and looked down at his hands. "I don't know why. I mean, this place—it holds some of my best memories. I used to love being here. Even that time I came in secret and Buffy didn't see me—it was good, you know? But now it just hurts, and I can't figure out why."

Cordelia smiled. "Well, maybe it's because you're actually interacting with her. Closely. You're doing exactly what you used to do with her, only now you're not…_together_, together. It's just a little weird for you, I think."

"Why are you so wise all of a sudden?" Angel asked a little grouchily. Cordelia smiled at him, and he sighed again. "But maybe you're right. I can't say for sure—I don't know myself that well."

"Only because you're emotionally stunted."

Angel chuckled softly. "Yeah, maybe."

"But we'll be leaving soon anyway. Just try and get through this one night."

"Mm-hmm…so what did you and Sam talk about?" Angel asked suddenly, changing the subject.

Cordelia took a sip of her tea and said, "Oh, just about our visions. Stories, mostly."

"What was it like?" Angel asked, suddenly curious.

Cordelia shrugged. "A little weird, I guess. But…interesting. And it was nice to get a different perspective on things."

"Well, talking to you…it seems to have helped," Angel commented, listening to the murmur of voices in the living room. "I mean, I didn't know him before this whole debacle, but Dean seemed surprised at his mood when he came in, so it must be unusual…"

"Yeah. He seemed to open up a lot, when we were talking," Cordelia said, getting to her feet and going to the doorway of the living room.

"He seems pretty happy," Angel said with a small smile. "You know, I always admired the way you could—"

"He's really screwed up," Cordelia interrupted, eyes on Sam as he listened with rapt attention to some story or other that Kurama was telling.

"What?" Angel asked. "What do you mean?"

"He's really screwed up," Cordelia repeated. "Him _and_ Dean. Angel, Sam and I didn't only talk about _having_ the visions or what they were like. We talked a lot about what we _thought_ about them. Me, I didn't have anything interesting to say about it, but Sam—he got _really_ confessional. He told me about his first visions, about how they freaked him out, and—about how he's been finding it hard to separate himself from all the things he's hunted." She sighed heavily. "I mean, he said it's just sometimes. When he's depressed or sad or just at random moments for no apparent reason. And it's just for a minute, but…it does happen. And he doesn't know what to do about it."

Cordelia turned back to the living room to watch, unnoticed. "They're crashing, Angel. There's no one to help them, no one to watch over them. They have no one to support them. They don't think they need anyone, but…that little family is crashing, and eventually they're going to crumble."

She felt a sad smile come to her face as Sam suddenly threw his head back and laughed at something his brother said.

"They don't know it, but they're both in for a lot of heartbreak. I just hope that…someone is there to pick up the pieces."

- - - - - - - - - - -

So, what do you think? Do I suck? Are there gonna be pitchforks and torches and the like? Or will there be a flood of nice, happy reviews coming my way? Well, either way, I know what's coming to _you_—an epilogue! Which is already written and should be up in a couple of hours.

**recorded voice** Any complaints, comments, issues, grumblings, problems, compliments, questions, or requests should be sent immediately to the authoress via a review.

**normal voice** I know there will be many of the above—or I _hope_ so, anyway. Please review!

- - - - - - - - - - -

"**For I dipp'd into the future, **

**Far as human eye could see,**

**Saw a Vision of the world, **

**And all the wonder that would be."**

—**Alfred, Lord Tennyson, _Locksley Hall_**

"**A miracle is not the suspension of a natural law, but the operation of a higher law." –Unknown**

_"**We don't know who we are until we see what we can do." –Jace22**_

"**Evil is always possible. Goodness is a difficulty." --Anne Rice**

"**In the end we are alone and there is nothing but the cold dark wasteland of eternity." --Anne Rice**


	17. Epilogue: That's A Wrap

AN: Well, here it is, ladies and gentlemen! Your epilogue! **drum roll** Enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sam, Dean, Kurama, Angel and Cordelia all left before the sun came up the next day. They didn't all leave at once, but it was close enough.

Kurama, Hiei, Yusuke and Kuwabara left first, taking a portal that they brought up in the Summers kitchen as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Dean and Sam were the only ones who didn't show any surprise—the others gave confused inquiries, and Giles expressed an interest in studying the thing until Yusuke mentioned how easy it would be for the librarian to fall _through_ it.

Yusuke and Kuwabara hung back while Kurama said goodbye to everyone, each time promising to call. Hiei didn't say anything, but he looked extremely surly, which usually meant that he was upset about something and didn't want anyone to know it.

"Hey, shrimp, come over here a sec."

Hiei glowered, but for some reason he didn't seem inclined to dispute the nickname. He went over to Dean and snapped, "What do you want?"

"Well, you're in a much better mood than usual," Dean said pleasantly. Hiei frowned at him, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, all I wanted to say was thanks for helping us. And especially for…uh…well, you know. Just figured I'd better say it now, since I hope I won't ever have to see you again."

Hiei glared at him. "There is absolutely _no reason_ for us to even be on the same _continent_ ever again. Don't even _imply_ such a thing."

"I wasn't!" Dean protested. "Thought horrifies me too, you know."

"Well, you thanked me. Can I go now?"

Dean laughed suddenly. "Yeah, get outta here. Go make out with your man."

"Freak," Hiei muttered, but as he walked away, Dean could have sworn he'd heard the little demon add, "Have a good life."

Dean was still staring at him when he disappeared through the portal after Kurama, Yusuke and Kuwabara. He only snapped out of it when Cordelia and Angel came over to him and Sam to say their goodbyes.

"This is my number in L.A.," Cordelia said, handing Sam a folded piece of paper. "Call us, okay?"

Sam smiled at her. "Yeah. Promise. It may be a while, though."

Cordelia nodded, and then surprised Sam by grabbing him in a hug. When she stepped back, her eyes were bright. "Good luck. To both of you."

"I hope you find what you're looking for," Angel added, shaking Dean's hand.

"Thank you," Sam said to Cordelia, so softly that only she heard.

"Anytime," she said, smiling. "Angel, we need to go. Sun'll be up soon and you need to be in the car by then…"

As they were leaving, Dean grabbed his brother's arm. "Dude, how did you _do_ that?"

"Do what?"

"How did you get a hug _and_ her number?"

Sam looked clueless.

"…You know what, never mind," Dean said, disgusted. "Hey, was it just me, or did they seem a little…"

"Nervous?" Sam asked. "Yeah…let's try not to think too much about what that could mean, eh?"

The Winchesters were the last to leave. Sam went among the group for goodbyes, but Buffy drew Dean aside, instead.

"Before you go, I just wanted you to know something—"

"You don't like me," Dean said, cutting her off. "And you probably never will. Is that the gist of it?"

"Well, I wasn't planning to be so harsh."

Dean chuckled. "Yes, you were. You're a tough girl, I can tell. Don't take crap from people. It's cool."

"You're flirting with me."

"Is it working?"

"…GET IN THAT RENTAL AND LEAVE BEFORE I KICK YOU BACK TO THE STONE AGE!"

"…Guess not." Dean smiled. "Well, fair enough. Hey, Sammy, let's get outta here," he called to his brother, who was trying to fit in one last apology to Willow for her arm and to everyone else for…everything else.

"Hey, Dean?" Buffy said as Dean started toward the rental car.

"Yeah?"

"Good fight."

Dean watched her walk away, and he sighed. _"Damn_, but she's hot!"

XXX

**Sacramento, California**

"Oh, my baby. Daddy's home," Dean sighed rapturously, patting the hood of his car.

Sam snorted. "You know, your relationship with that car is just disturbing." But his hand strayed to the hood of the car as he got in, and a small smile crossed his face. "So where are we going next, anyway?"

Dean shrugged and started the car. "I was checking the 'net while you were locked in with Cordelia. We have what looks like a poltergeist in Nevada, and also a series of really weird car accidents in Washington. Both seem pretty routine. You get to choose."

"And what a wonder it is," Sam sighed, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes as the car pulled out of the lot.

"You all right" Dean asked, back to masking his concern.

"Yeah, just a little beat. But they did warn me about that. I'll be fine in a day or so."

Dean nodded, but continued to drive without replying. Sam closed his eyes again, and miles passed in silence. Then, suddenly, Sam sat up, opened his eyes, and asked, "Are _you_ all right?"

"What?" Dean asked, sounding baffled by the question.

"Well, it's just that you hardly said a word the whole way here for the car, and since then you've talked only _to_ the car. Is something wrong?"

Dean shook his head. "No…no, nothing."

"Uh…okay," Sam said, but he made it perfectly obvious that he didn't buy it.

Dean sighed, keeping his eyes on the road as he spoke. "It's just…I didn't tell you before, because I didn't see any reason to, but…in the hospital, when Doyle was there, he did tell me the possible consequences of…bringing you back. And…well, he explained that it was possible that you had already gone on to a higher plane. That…" His voice dropped a notch. "That you were with Mom."

Sam looked down at his knees and didn't answer.

"And when I heard that…I thought about how happy you might be, how much better off, and then…I told Doyle to bring you back, without another thought. And I think…I think that's bothering me."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Because you care?"

"No, not because I _care_. And we'll get back to you making me sound like a girl. It's because I _didn't_. I knew you might be happy for once, and then I just did what _I_ wanted." Dean sighed heavily. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Just…just forget about all that and _listen_ to me for a sec, okay? Dean, I'm so glad that you care as much as you obviously do, okay? That's all that matters to me, so stop beating yourself up, brother."

"You are making me sound like a chick, Sammy. You know the rules about that."

"Never, ever, _ever_ make Dean sound like a girl, a gay man, a pansy, or anything else that means he has to braid someone's hair," Sam reeled off.

"Right," Dean said with a chuckle. "So…uh…what was it like?"

"Being possessed?" Sam guessed. Dean nodded. "Well…at first it was painful. You saw that. That was the worst part. I didn't think it was ever gonna end. But then it did, and everything was just…gray. Everywhere. It was…_boring._" Dean smiled at his choice of words. "And then…after Doyle came…"

"Wait, _Doyle_ came to see you?"

"Mm-hmm. I asked him what was going on, and he explained about the possession. And then I asked what was going to happen if you couldn't stop it, and…and then everything changed from gray to black, Doyle shouted something and then disappeared—I think he got kicked out by something—and the next thing I knew, I was trying to kill you guys and I couldn't control my own body. And there was so much _power_—it was ripping me apart, Dean." Dean winced. "I mean, Giles explained to me where it all came from before we left, but it's still a little scary to think that the demon used _me_ for something like that. Why do you think it chose me?"

Dean debated with himself for a moment, and then lied. "I don't know." Sam shrugged and didn't ask again, and another few miles passed. "Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked hesitantly.

Sam turned to look at him, and in that moment, Sam knew the question his older brother was going to ask, Dean knew the answer, and no verbalization was required.

"Are we gonna be all right, Sammy? I mean, are we gonna get past this?"

Sam just smiled a little at him, and then proceeded to do one of Dean's all time least favorite things.

"The tree that never had to fight—For the sun and sky and air and light—But stood out in the open rain—And always got its share and rain—Never became a forest king—But lived and died a scrubby thing—Good timber does not grow with ease—The stronger wind the stronger tree."

"Dude, I _hate_ it when you quote Malloch."

"You like it better than Tennyson."

Dean smiled. "So is that your freaky way of answering 'yes' to my question?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Go to sleep, geek boy."

"Okay," Sam mumbled, closing his eyes, done with his humanitarian act for the day. For a few moments, the only sound was of Dean and Sam breathing, and the hum of the car engine. Then suddenly Sam asked, without opening his eyes, "Dean?"

"Yeah, little brother?"

"Could you turn on the radio?"

Dean looked at him for a moment, then smiled and reached out to turn on one of his Led Zeppelin tapes.

The next time he looked at Sam, his little brother was asleep.

As the miles and minutes dropped by, Dean found himself thinking, once again, how close it had come. How he had almost lost his brother. And then he pictured what _could_ have happened: Sam could have died, and instead of being in his car, listening to Zeppelin, happier than he had been in a long time, with Sam sleeping next to him—Dean could have been alone, in silence, and grieving.

If he believed in God, he would have been sending up an _extremely_ heartfelt thanks right about now.

He laughed aloud when he realized what he'd just told himself, and looked up into the sky that was, for once, blue instead of dismal, depressing gray. As he turned his eyes back to the road stretching endlessly in front of him, an extremely random phrase jumped into his head and just _stuck_ there.

_In omnia paratus._

_Ready for anything_.

- - - - - - - - - -

Well, it's finished. And as always, I'm completely brokenhearted over it. **sniffle** This is my favorite story out of all of them I've written, and now it's over. Can't blame me for being a little sad, can you?

Well, moving beyond my pity party—a big, humongous, loving thank you for all of my terrific reviewers! Even if you only sent in _one_, it made me happy! You guys are my inspiration! You have to share the title with my boys and that beautiful car of theirs, though…

Oh, and also, little note: I have _no idea_ when you can expect my next fic. I'm going away for a week and I don't know how much time I'll have to write where I'll be. But I do know what it's gonna be about! So it shouldn't be _too_ long. Hopefully.

Just in case anyone cares, ya know.

Thank you all very much, sayonara, bye-bye, please take care of yourself!

—Adara-chan

- - - - - - - - - -

**"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." –Confucius**

"**Evil is always possible. Goodness is a difficulty." -Anne Rice**

**"Darkness never really goes away once you've seen it. You just learn to see the light in darkness. In fact, once you've seen the darkness, the light is brighter." -Anne Rice**

"**Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone must always carry on the story." –Bilbo Baggins, Lord of the Rings**

"**Thinking of you, wherever you are.**

**We pray for our sorrows to end,**

**And hope that our hearts will blend.**

**Now I will step forward to realize this wish.**

**And who knows:**

**Starting a new journey may not be so hard.**

**Or maybe it has already begun.**

**There are many worlds,**

**But they share the same sky—**

**One sky, one destiny."**

**-_Kingdom Hearts II_**


End file.
